


The Fifth Wife

by blueenvelopes935



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Clueless!Jedi!Girl, Coruscant, CoruscantUnderworld, Count!Dooku, Darth!Plagueis, Darth!Sidious!Is!A!Jerk, F/M, False!Pretenses, Force Visions, ForceSever, Hand!Slash, Muuns, Never!Trust!A!Sith, Profanity, Secret!Sith, Sheev!Palpatine, Sith!Flirt, Sith!Fluff, Sith!Happens, Sith!Sex, Sith!Temple, Snoke - Freeform, Stockholm Syndrome, VeryAU, Yellow!Eyes, milo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:39:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 98,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7515478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueenvelopes935/pseuds/blueenvelopes935
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unsuspecting Jedi girl wanders into a Sith Temple and meets her destiny.  An AU backstory for Snoke and a prequel to my story Fulcrum.  Girl meets Sith, the Darth Plagueis version.  Because before the dark times, before the Empire, the Sith walked freely among us in disguise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**The Fifth Wife**

 

**For arah _who suggested this story_**

**For asfiksija _who likes her Sith_**

 

_Before the dark times, before the Empire, before the Republic became old and fell, the Sith walked freely among us in disguise._

 

“I see it! It’s over here, Obi-Wan!”

Shan scoops up the ball she has been looking for and turns to hand it to the visiting three-year old youngling who is hot on her heels. The little boy is gleeful at the discovery. He takes off at top speed back to the main group, clutching the ball in his chubby little hands.  

Shan pauses a moment. She watches from afar the chaos of thirty Jedi younglings at a picnic.  It’s a good thing that the Coruscant younglings only visit the Naboo Temple once a year. One day of chaos is enough for her. Although, she has to admit that all this sunshine feels good.   Shan knows she spends more time holed up in the library than is good for her. Her long days of research can be isolating.

Yes, she should get out more. Naboo is just gorgeous in springtime. Shan smiles absently at a passing butterfly, following it with her eyes. It flies into the grove of trees behind her. On impulse, Shan trails it a few meters. Then watches as it disappears into an open stone doorway.

Intrigued, she approaches.

It’s an entrance of some kind. And it looks very old. Ancient maybe judging by the weather darkened stone. Some sort of door has been slid aside to reveal the opening.

Shan pauses. Is this an old mine shaft? She has no idea of the history of the Palpatine estate they are visiting today.   She only knows that the junior Senator from Naboo is friendly to the Jedi and each year lends his property for the annual picnic. It wouldn’t do to offend their host by snooping around.

Still, there’s something familiar about this place.

Shan considers a long moment. Then tentatively steps in.

By the time she is a few meters inside, it’s very dark. Why is she doing this again? She’s likely to stumble and kill herself in here. Or it will all collapse on her head and she’ll be crushed. Yeah, this is a bad idea.

Shan grabs her saber from her waist and ignites it, holding the blue blade high aloft for light.  Well, maybe just a few steps farther. Then she’ll return to the others.

There’s just something familiar about this place.  She feels sort of . . . drawn to it?   It’s an odd but compelling feeling. Like a nagging thought that won’t go away.

Looking around, Shan realizes that she’s standing in an antechamber of some kind. The blue glow of her saber reveals a stone stairway leading down. And over the stairs is an archway carved with high relief Aurebesh text. Shan peers closer. No, it’s not Aurebesh, but its forbearer language from many centuries earlier. Whatever this place is, it’s old.

Now, she is very intrigued. Shan loves all things old.

She has seen this language before in her research. Slowly, she makes out letters and says the words aloud. “Peace . . . is . . .”  

She stops, sensing something. Someone. In the Force. It’s ephemeral, like a caress on her mind. And then it’s gone.

“Who’s there?” Shan calls out into the darkness.  

There is no answer.

It must be her mind playing tricks on her. Shan turns back to the Old Aurebesh carving. She’ll just read this inscription before she leaves. Maybe it will give her a clue as to what this fascinating place is.

“Peace is . . . a . . . lie . . .” she reads. Peace is a lie? What does that mean? “Peace is a lie,” she says again, peering closer at the letters that are inches from her lit saber. Yes, those are the words. It’s very ominous, whatever it means.

And there it is again. That same sensation. The light brush of an unfamiliar mind against hers.

Someone is here.

“Who’s there?” Again Shan calls out into the darkness.

There is no answer.

But now there are footsteps.   Heavy, slow, methodical footsteps. Closer now. Sounding in a repeat pattern like the climbing of stairs.

Stairs!

Shan’s eyes widen and she lowers her sword to ready position, held before her as she backs away. She needs to get out of here.   Throwing her head over her shoulder to glance at the entrance not five meters away, she watches in horror as the sunlight vanishes. The entrance abruptly shuts. Did the door somehow blow closed in the spring breeze? The absence of natural light dims her field of vision to only what can be lit by her sword.

And that’s not very much.

The footsteps stop. Shan can barely make out a looming dark figure standing at the top of the stairs under the inscription she was just reading.

“Who’s there?” she calls a third time. “Who are you?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” comes the slow reply. The voice is low and gravelly, with slightly punctuated syllables. It’s a cultured voice. A confident voice. And it seems to come from above her head, which is unexpected given she’s a Muun and nearly two meters tall.

“No, I shouldn’t,” Shan instantly agrees she’s in the wrong. She’s spooked now and struggling to recall her field training from years ago. First, assess the threat. Yes, that’s it. Shan reaches out in the Force and discovers that whoever this is has absolutely no Force sensitivity. Good, she has the advantage. Shan relaxes.

She’s got this. She’s a Jedi.

“What have you come for?” the voice speaks again. It sounds . . . curious. Less hostile.

“I wandered in. I chased a child’s ball in this direction.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“No.”

“I thought not, Jedi.” Now the voice sounds amused.

Suddenly, lights flash on. The stranger must know where the switch is. The lights are dim, but bright enough compared to pitch dark to cause her to blink fast in sudden blindness. When the spots on her vision clear, Shan sees the speaker.

He’s a Muun, like her. Richly dressed in dark robes and wearing the traditional banker’s shawl and pendant. He looks to be of early middle years and damn if he isn’t the most handsome Muun she’s ever seen.

Her jaw drops.

He looks at her expectantly.

“Oh,” is all she can say. And she’s not usually at a loss for words.

A slow smile spreads across the stranger’s face. He is most definitely amused now. “Put away your weapon. I mean you no harm, girl.”

Girl? Shan bristles. She’s thirty-two standard years, a Jedi Knight and no one’s girl.

“Well,” the stranger drawls. “Are you planning to kill me? If so, get it over with.” He gestures dismissively at her still lit saber. But he doesn’t seem afraid. His dark eyes glitter in the dim light, almost like he’s excited by her drawn weapon.

“No,” she concedes, extinguishing her saber. “I was just leaving.” Until the door closed, that is.

“Oh, not yet, girl. Not yet.”

Again with the ‘girl’ business. The stranger steps forward and he’s tall even for a Muun. He towers over Shan and it’s an unfamiliar sensation to feel small. Rarely does Shan come into contact with her own kind. Usually, she’s the one hulking over humans and other species alike.

He looks her up and down blatantly. Shan fidgets under his appraisal. Then that slow smile once again spreads across his face. It’s a knowing smile. Kind of unnerving, but not overtly threatening.

The handsome Muun bows slightly to her. “It is not often that I get the honor of meeting a Jedi. What is your name, pretty girl?”

“I am called Shan,” she answers. And damn if she doesn’t feel her face flush at the compliment.

“Shan?” The Muun throws his head back to laugh. “A beautiful Muun Jedi named Shan? Oh, this is the will of the Force!”

Huh? She doesn’t understand the joke and he has her on the defensive. “And your name is?” she prompts him stiffly.

“Oh, I am called many things. In business, I am addressed as Chairman. In other circles, I am called My Lord. But you may call me Snoke.”

Snoke? It sounds like something a child would name a toy. And it seems completely at odds with the dignified gentleman who stands before her.

“You are a banker, Snoke?” she eyes his attire. “With the IGBC?”

“I am the Banking Clan,” he replies obtusely. Once more, he graces her with that broad smile. “But I am also a lover of knowledge and of all things arcane, which is why I am here.” He steps closer. Maybe a little too close in her space. “You like old things too, don’t you? I heard you reading the inscriptions. Not many alive today can read Old Aurebesh so easily.”

Shan nods. “I do translations at the Temple Archives. I’ve seen this language before in my work.”

“And have you seen the text before?” the stranger asks. “Do you know what it is that you are reading?”

“No,” Shan admits. “What is it?”

Snoke turns to stand at her shoulder and gazes at the archway. He reads slowly, his deep voice intoning the words like a prayer.

_Peace is a lie, there is only passion._

_Through passion, I gain strength._

_Through strength, I gain power._

_Through power, I gain victory._

_Through victory, my chains are broken._

_The Force shall free me._

She looks up at him as he finishes and realizes that his eyes are closed. Snoke isn’t reading the words, he’s reciting them.

“You know this,” she determines. “What is it?”

“It is the Code of the Sith.”

“The S-sith?” Shan stammers and blinks. She had not been expecting that answer.

“Yes.” Snoke is still standing at her right shoulder. He leans close to whisper in her ear. “You are standing in a Sith Temple, Jedi.”

“A Sith Tem—wow!” Shan couldn’t be more shocked. And delighted. “But I thought they had all been destroyed a millennium ago when the Sith were wiped out.” She narrows her eyes. “Are you certain?”

“Yes, I am certain.”   Snoke sounds amused again.

“Oh, how exciting!” Shan’s eyes light up and she clasps her hands before her. “Perhaps there is knowledge of the Force to be learned here. Or knowledge of the Sith.”

“That’s rather open-minded for a Jedi,” he remarks dryly.

“I like knowledge. I work in the Jedi Archives to preserve and learn the history of the Order,” Shan explains. “But those records are mostly holochrons, data files and old books. Not like this.” Shan steps forward. She reaches up to run her hand tentatively over the carved inscription. She traces the letters. “This is real history.”

“Indeed.” The tall Muun at her side lifts his hand to cover hers with his. It’s an intimate gesture from a stranger and Shan snatches back her hand as if stung.

“I mean you no harm,” Snoke tells her again in his deep voice. His words ring true in the Force and that’s reassuring. “Come, let me show you the Temple. I have done quite a bit of exploring here. It is remarkable. You will enjoy it.”

Shan is tempted. Really tempted. But she has to get back to the picnic.

“I’d like to see the Temple. Truly, I would. But I can’t. Not right now. I have probably been missed already.”

“Then tonight.” It is a statement, not a question.

Tonight?   Well, why not? Shan would love to see this Temple. And having a knowledgeable guide will make it safer and more enjoyable, she thinks. This Snoke man looks and sounds reputable enough. He’s dressed like a prince. And she’ll take her saber.

“Okay.” She agrees. “Tonight. At nightfall.” Then, she hesitates. “Wait--Is this permitted? Would we be trespassing?”

Snoke shakes his head no. “I am here on Naboo visiting a friend. This Temple is on his lands. I am quite welcome to be here. You might even say that I belong.”

Shan nods and then the room around them brightens a bit as the entrance once again reopens. That’s good timing. At least she doesn’t have to worry about forcing her way out with her saber.

“Are you sure that there are no Sith around, Shan?” Snoke is teasing her with an easy smile. “Legend has it that only a Sith may open and close a Sith Temple.”

“You got in, didn’t you?” she smiles back at him. Shan decides she likes this tall, handsome stranger. She has a soft spot for anyone who likes history. “It’s just the wind, I’m sure. The Sith are long gone. The last of the Sith were defeated centuries ago.”

“Of course. Until tonight then, Lady Shan.” The tall banker again bows to her.

Shan nods in response.   “Until tonight, Snoke.”


	2. Chapter 2

It’s not hard for Shan to find her way back to the stand of trees with the temple entrance. The door is open. Snoke is already here.

She is excited and slightly breathless as she ducks through the outer doorway. The handsome Muun awaits her with a smile.

“Welcome back.” He favors her with another courtly bow and it’s charming, even if it is a bit formal.

“Hello,” Shan responds easily. It’s not her nature to stand on ceremony. She’s the friendly type.

His eyes flick over her again and Shan can’t help but feel she is being appraised. She’s still in her simple Jedi tunic worn over the long plain skirt that she adopted in homage to her Master. They are serviceable and comfortable clothes, nothing special. Jedi are not much for appearance. They focus on more important things.

“I wondered if you would actually come back,” he reveals.

Shan laughs a little at the absurdity this remark. “Oh, I am far too curious to stay away. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

“Have you now?” He’s enjoying her enthusiasm. “Then let’s get started.” Snoke gestures her toward the stone steps. Together they descend.

“The Sith were secretive,” he tells her as they walk.  He moves fast for such a big man. “They did not build many temples and they committed very little of their teachings to text.   The Sith did not keep archives like the Jedi. They mostly preserved their knowledge by passing it down between Master and Apprentice.”

Shan nods her understanding. “You’re telling me that there is no library here to discover? No musty old books for me to steal for the Jedi?”

“If there ever were any books, someone has stolen them already. And no, there is no library. But there is much down here to hold your interest.”

That sounds good to her.

Shan peaks over at him as they walk. Admiring his high, noble forehead and broad cheekbones. Snoke is a Muun through and through, but his face has a somewhat conventional human cast to it.   More craggy and chiseled than narrow and gaunt like most of their kind. The lighting in this portion of the Temple is recessed and red, of all things.   But the soft glow warms his pale gray skin. Yes, Snoke is very handsome, she decides.

“I wonder how this temple survived,” she muses aloud. “Do you know how old it is?”

“It is hard to date Sith temples,” Snoke tells her. “Like your Jedi temples, they tended to be built and rebuilt over themselves. What we are actually looking at might not have been the original temple.”

That makes sense, Shan thinks to herself. Sacred places are powerful symbols that have long been targets for destruction and renewal.   A temple like this is a repository of ideas, more than anything.  And if you wish to conquer a people, you must do more than defeat their armies. You must eradicate their ideals.   Shan thinks of the main Jedi temple on Coruscant. If anyone wished to overthrow the Republic, the logical first order of business would be to burn the temple and kill all the Jedi.

Shan looks up to find Snoke staring at her. She flushes. “I’m sorry. I was lost in thought. This place is very evocative.”

“Indeed,” he observes, still studying her closely. “How long have the Jedi had you?” Snoke asks this a bit like she’s in captivity. Shan has encountered this attitude before and she doesn’t take offense. Laypeople don’t understand that the Force is a calling in life, a special gift. Sometimes they focus solely on the restrictions of Jedi life, and not on the opportunities. There are trade-offs in any career, after all.

So Shan is open about herself and her past. “Since I was about two, I think. I don’t remember a time before I was a youngling. The Jedi are all that I have ever known.” Shan looks over at the Muun at her side. He’s one of maybe a dozen Muuns she has seen in person. Muuns are rare in the Jedi Order. And rarer still on Naboo. “I’ve never actually been to Muunilinst,” she reveals. “But I’d like to go someday.”

“So you are curious about life outside the Jedi?” Snoke wants to know. “Have you ever wished for a different life?”

Ah, more of that same skepticism. Her fellow university students had asked her this question all the time. “It is a great gift to have the Force,” Shan tells him with solemn sincerity. “And growing up I actually had much more contact with the outside than most padawans did. My Master pegged me for the Archives when I was young. She insisted that I be schooled at university for degree after degree.” Shan glances over at Snoke and flashes a sheepish smile. “I was the padawan stuck in lecture halls while everyone else was at saber practice.” If Shan has angst, it’s over her success as a Jedi and not about her exposure to the outside world. She frowns a moment and grumbles. “I never did get to be very good with a lightsaber.”

“Is that a problem? Are there many duels in the Temple Archives?” He’s teasing her.

“No. There are not,” Shan admits with a grin. They are down the stairs now and Snoke conducts them along a wide corridor. “I rarely ever wear my saber these days. I only took it to the picnic today because the younglings always want to hold it. The little ones never think you are a real Jedi unless you wear a lightsaber.” She rolls her eyes. “You can tell them that the Force is for more than fighting, but it falls on deaf ears. Especially for the boys.”

“Did you wear it tonight to impress me too?” He’s teasing her again. “I’m a little boy at heart, Shan. All men are.”

She chuckles. “It was a practical decision. Mostly I wore it because it’s dark in here and I thought it might be a useful light. But you are a stranger to me,” she adds as an afterthought.

“And here I thought we were becoming friends. I shall have to be careful not to anger you. I don’t want to lose a limb.”  

Shan snorts at this possibility. “If you’d ever seen me use a lightsaber, you would know that I’m the one most in danger of losing a limb.”

She stops for a moment to take in her surroundings, soaking in the strangeness of it all. This place is nothing like a Jedi temple. But still, there is something so compelling about it all. Shan feels Snoke watching her. When she glances back at him, he looks kind of proud. Like he is enjoying that she is enjoying this. It’s endearing.

“Who was your Master?” he asks.

But Shan is distracted again. This time by the intricate carvings that cover the stonework. She recognizes Old Aurebesh here and there, but there are other languages she does not. And there are repeating patterns of unfamiliar symbols that intrigue her. She’d love to understand what all this means.

“Hmmm?  I’m sorry. Say that again.” Shan is all eyes and no ears inside the Temple.   Plus, it’s sort of hard to concentrate here. The Force seems a bit foggy, and so does her head. But maybe that’s because the good-looking Muun at her side is so . . . distracting.

“Who was your Master?”

“Jocasta Nu. She has recently been chosen to be the Chief Librarian for the Coruscant Archives.”

“I have met a few Jedi in my day, but I have not met your Master Nu.”

“How do you know Jedi?” Shan wants to know.

“I’m the Banking Clan, remember? We have dealings with the High Council from time to time.”

“Ah, yes.” Shan nods. “Credits.”

Her tone must give away her attitude, for Snoke slants her a sideways glance. “Such a Jedi you are to disdain money. I see I cannot impress you by talk of alpha, straddle trades and underwriting discounts.”

“No,” Shan concedes. “I don’t even know what those terms mean. I don’t know anything about finance. I know that the IGBC exists and that’s about it.”

“That’s not very Muun of you,” Snoke observes with a laugh. And he’s right. Her people are renowned for their business acumen, especially banking. “Unlike the Jedi, Sith were worldly. Greedy.” Snoke tells her this with something akin to admiration, but then again he is in finance. Aren’t all Wall Street types greedy? “The Sith loved wealth and they understood that money is power.   Take it from a banker, my dear—what they say is true. Money is the root of all evil.”

But Shan isn’t listening again. She is peering at more inscriptions on the wall. “These are names. Darth Bane. Darth Re-van.” Shan slowly reads the characters, sounding out the words. “Darth Mal-ak. Ex—ex . . .”

“Exar Kuun.” Stepping beside her, Snoke keeps reading. “Darth Malgus. Darth Nihilus. Darth Sion.  These are greatest Dark Lords of the Sith, Shan. Men of cunning and subterfuge. Men of immense power and ability. Men of the Force.”

Shan turns to Snoke and asks the question she has been wondering ever since she walked in. “How do you know so much about the Sith? It’s not exactly readily available information.”

“Sith history is available if you know where to look and who to talk to. It’s long been a hobby of mine,” Snoke shares. Then adds, “It’s why I lurk around old temples waiting for pretty girls.”

“Could I learn this history?” Shan asks impulsively. Ever since she stepped into this temple, Shan has felt like an explorer. Like she is uncovering something important to learn, to understand and to share. Even if the Sith were evil, surely there was something of value to preserve from their culture.   No other group has ever rivaled the Jedi’s knowledge of the Force like the Sith. Not the Witches of Dathomir or the Dagoyan Masters.

“If you want to learn, I can teach you this history, Shan.” Snoke steps closer and once again he’s in her space. She feels small next to him. Feminine even. It’s an unfamiliar sensation. Maybe it’s because he’s so male--and so attractively male--but it’s kind of nice.

“I can teach you a great many things,” Snoke says as he raises a hand to cup her cheek. “You need a teacher, Shan.”

What? Shan blinks, then frowns. “Stop that,” she tells him as she steps away.

“Stop what?”

“Flirting with me.   You’re not supposed to flirt with a Jedi.” She sounds very prim, but it’s the truth.

He just smiles. The man is undeterred. “Why not?”

“It’s not appropriate. A Jedi must have the most serious mind. We are not available for those sorts of things.”

“What sorts of things?” Now he’s grinning and damn it she’s blushing. How did they get on this topic again?

“I said to stop it.” Shan is embarrassed to be having this conversation.  Really, who flirts with a Jedi? Plus, she barely knows this man. “You know what I’m saying,” she mutters.

“You’re saying I should respect that fact that the most beautiful Muun girl I have ever seen was stolen as a baby to be raised as a celibate nun in a Force cult and will be buried in a library her whole life.” Snoke smiles as he says this speech, but the words are biting.

“Er . . . yes.” She frowns.

“Is it wrong of me to admire your youth and beauty?” His voice has a tone of feigned innocence. He’s enjoying provoking her.

“I’m hardly youthful,” she informs Snoke. “I’m thirty-two.”

“Thirty-two is young to me. And you are most definitely beautiful. Very beautiful.”

Now she’s really blushing. Truly, she is not used to this type of interaction. “Don’t you have a wife somewhere who wouldn’t like this?” Shan complains.

“I did have a wife. But sadly she is one with the Force.”

Yikes! Shan has just put her foot in her mouth. And instantly she feels terrible about it. She cringes. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up sad memor—“

“If is fine. It has been years now,” Snoke dismisses her concern. Then he’s back to being provoking. “So take pity on a lonely widower. Give me a kiss.”

Give him a what?? “Don’t—“ She raises a hand and steps back as he steps forward.

“You’ve never been kissed before have you?” He gives a low throaty chuckle. “Of course not, you’re a Jedi. But how charming. Let me be your first kiss.”

Shan starts marching down the corridor again. “You’re incorrigible,” she tells him.

“And you’re adorable,” he retorts. Snoke follows closely on her heels.

Shan has halted now, hands on her hips feeling annoyed. “You’re making me uncomfortable. I came here to see the temple.   This is not an assignation, Snoke.”

“Then let’s make a deal,” he offers lightly. “I won’t kiss you tonight if you come back tomorrow evening.”

Shan blinks at the audacity of this bargain. “Are you . . . threatening me?” she asks. Her face is scrunched up at the bizarre nature of their conversation.  

“Yes, with my kiss. But if you prefer, we can call it negotiating.”

“What?” Who does this guy think he is exactly? The arrogance of this man to think that he might kiss her!

“It must be this Sith Temple.   It is making me aggressive. They say Sith dare anything.” Snoke raises an eyebrow. “Maybe even kissing a Jedi.”

Shan starts to retrace her steps. “I’m leaving now,” she calls over her shoulder.

“Are you coming back tomorrow? There is much more here to see.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“I will be waiting.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Well, what have we here?” Once again, Snoke awaits her just inside the entrance.

“I’m here to see the temple,” Shan informs him. She means this to sound stern but it comes out kind of eager. Because, truthfully, she was always coming back. And Shan suspects that they both knew that all along.

“You’re not here to see me? How you wound me, Shan.” Snoke feigns offense. Even now he’s kind of flirting with her. Which is part annoying and part charming. “I am relieved. I was contemplating having to march into the Jedi temple just to see you.”

“That would be bold,” she mutters.

“More bold than you know.”

“What?”

“Come,” he urges her towards the stairs to enter the interior temple. “Let me show you the meditation chamber. A Sith might reflect there for hours before a major decision or a confrontation. Preparing his mind for what lay ahead. Gathering his power.”

Snoke is animated like she remembers from yesterday. His enthusiasm is contagious. It’s fun that he loves sharing this history. It’s an esoteric topic, so maybe he doesn’t get to talk about it much with others, she thinks. Whatever. She’s all ears. History is her thing.

Shan takes a few steps, then hesitates. “Wait a minute—are you going to behave this time?”

He gives her a saintly look. “I will try.”

That’s not the automatic yes she was expecting. “Do or do not, there is no try.” Shan quotes Jedi Master Yoda to him. But Snoke just throws his head back and laughs. “You’re such a good girl Jedi. So committed, so earnest!” She’s frowning at his mocking tone when he grabs her hand and leads her down the stairs. “Come.”

“Jedi meditate, right?” he asks as they stride back down the long corridor she recalls from yesterday.

“Yes,” she tells him. “We have meditation rooms in every temple. Where you can clear your mind and feel the Force. It’s for self-discipline.”

“Ah, yes, the famed Jedi discipline. Well, I suspect that this room will be very different from what you’re used to.”

Now, she’s dying to see it. “Then lead on.”  

Their path becomes a twisted maze of corridors and Shan struggles to commit the sequence to memory. Luckily, her tour guide is completely at ease. Snoke is very comfortable with the temple layout. Clearly, he’s been here many times. Finally, they duck through a doorway and stop on the threshold of a large circular room.

“Not what you expected?”

No, it’s not. There are no inscriptions on the walls of this room, unlike the rest of the temple. Everywhere is smooth and seamless stone. So there’s nothing to rest her gaze upon except the rack of rusty looking chains and weapons on the far wall and a stone bench in the middle of the room. There’s a haphazard pile of spiky looking things beside the bench.

Shan says the first thing that comes to mind. “This looks like a torture chamber.”

Snoke nods his agreement. “It looks very Sith, doesn’t it?   I can just imagine some powerful Dark Lord brooding here for hours.   Plotting. Sith loved to plot.”

Shan nods, joining in to construct the scene. “Yes and he’d be wearing all black robes with armor. Like he’s preparing for battle. And maybe a scary mask too.“

Snoke scoffs. “No, he doesn’t wear a mask. Masks are old school Sith. This Sith is a modern man. So maybe just a few tattoos.”

“No, tattoos are trashy. This Sith is a patrician,” she corrects him.

“A Sith prince? I like that.”

“And a cape,” she adds. “He needs a cape.”

“Cape? Interesting choice.”

“Yes, a cape with a hood. He has to look mysterious and slightly dashing in his evilness.”

“Dashing?” Snoke raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, yes,” she assures him.   “The Jedi teach that the Dark Side of the Force is seductive. So our brooding Sith prince needs to be attractive.”

“Oh, agreed. He’s very handsome. But in a manly, Darth sort of way.”

Shan laughs. This is fun, like telling a ghost story. “I’m picturing our Darth Prince Hottie intensely plotting so he can get his name inscribed on the wall back there.”

“Yes,” Snoke nods thoughtfully. “It is a select group. He would have to overthrow the Republic or something equivalent to do so.”

“Probably kill a lot of Jedi too,” Shan adds ghoulishly.   She crosses her arms and considers. “Yes, this is nothing like a Jedi mediation chamber. Nothing at all.”

“Let me guess. You are used to soft pastels, soothing vistas and nature.”

“Pretty much,” Shan agrees. “It’s all very relaxing.” She gives him a sheepish look. “I once fell asleep in there. We were visiting Coruscant and my Master sent me to meditate and I had been up late studying.   After a few minutes of trying to find the Force, I was snoring away.” She giggles and blushes at the memory, still embarrassed even though it was years past. “Master Yoda was a few feet away and he was NOT amused. There went my chance at getting assigned to the diplomatic corps.”

Snoke’s eyes are flashing with humor. “Poor saber skills? Sleeping through meditation?   Shan, you are a lousy Jedi.”

“It’s true,” she laughs, but then shoots him a nervous look. “Do I disappoint you?”

“Not at all.”

It’s kind of refreshing that Snoke doesn’t take the Jedi Order so seriously. Most laymen she meets treat her with a mix of fear and awe that makes her uncomfortable. Like she has to live up to their expectations that she be some sort of heroine.   Instead of plain old Shan, the analyst and scholar who’s never been in the field but has great research skills and a number of published articles to her name. And who sees the future better than most Jedi masters.

“I . . . uh . . . have more Force than I have ability,” Shan confesses softly to him. She grimaces, thinking of her ‘Failed to Meet Potential’ final padawan evaluation she had accidentally seen. Shan hadn’t been snooping for it. Truly she hadn’t.

Snoke looks surprised. And interested. “What does that mean?”

Why is she telling him this?   It’s not exactly something to be proud of.   Well, too late. She is the one who brought it up. “It means that I’m not very good at the basic Jedi skills.” Shan gives a little shrug. “You had it right . . . I’m a lousy Jedi.”

“What Jedi skills are you good at?” he asks.

The skills the Jedi don’t value, she grumbles to herself. She would never badmouth the Order out loud to a layperson. “I see the future. And sometimes I can tell what people are thinking.”

“Those would be very useful skills in banking,” Snoke observes. “Especially knowing what people are thinking.”

“Actually, it’s kind of a suspect skill for a Jedi. We aren’t supposed to violate another’s autonomy. That can be manipulative,” Shan explains. “And knowing what other people are thinking isn’t all that great. Mostly it’s the things people won’t say out loud. Their biases, nasty opinions, insecurities and . . . uh . . . baser instincts.” She purses her lips. “I do always know when someone is flat out lying to me. Even Jedi.”

“Can you tell what I’m thinking now?” Snoke asks her. He has a gleam in his eye like it’s a challenge.

“Snoke, you are very opaque to me actually,” she confesses. “I only pick up superficial things about you. Emotions more than true thoughts.”

“Like what?”

“I could tell that you were genuinely pleased to see me tonight.” He smiles at this and she smiles back. “And someone made you very angry earlier today. So angry that you’re still mad.“ He nods and she continues, concentrating a minute to actually try to read him instead of just skimming the surface of his mind. “Tonight with me here—it’s an escape for you. You should be doing something else but you came here tonight anyway. Thank you for that, by the way."

“Go on.”

“You’re—you’re—“ she falters. Unwilling to say the word lonely out loud. This is the kind of thing that makes reading thoughts awkward. Prying into people’s privacy tells you things they don’t want to reveal.   Like that they might be a handsome, successful banker who probably can get any woman they want, but they are still lonely. Which makes sense in a way.   Snoke had told her that his wife was dead.

“No, that’s the gist. Nothing more.” Shan doesn’t meet his eyes. She walks to the center of the room and changes the topic. “I can feel the Force here. The Force is strong in this place.”

He nods. Snoke is curious, like all laymen. But unlike most, he is not afraid to ask her about it. The Force doesn’t intimidate Snoke at all, she realizes. “Tell me what you feel.”

“Pain, I feel pain. Suffering. And power. Great power.” She stops by the bench and closes her eyes. “A man with great power sat here. He was old. Centuries old.”

Snoke nods. She nudges the pile of rusty iron with her boot. “What do you think all this stuff was for?”

“Do you know where the Sith got their power?” he asks.

Yes, she does. “They drew upon emotion. Anger, hate, fear.”

“Yes. And often they focused their power through pain.”

Shan makes a face. “Sadism.”

“Some were sadists. Certainly there were masochists.   Others were just pragmatic.   They used the easiest means available to intensify their feelings and increase their power.”

Shan nods. Master Yoda has long taught that the Dark Side is the quick and easy path to power. And Yoda is the authority on these issues. He’s really the only Jedi Master left who is old enough to have known a real Sith and seen the Dark Side for themselves.

“So the Sith inflicted physical pain on themselves?” she asks.

“Sometimes. Pain comes in many forms.   Not all of them physical.” Snoke slants a sideways glance at her. “But you don’t know that, do you?   You have only known comfort and peace. I can see that.”

It’s true. “How can you tell?” Shan asks, struck by his insight.

“It shows in your innocence. In your open nature,” he tells her. “Suffering destroys all that.”

His observation is profound and kind of disturbing. “How do you know that?”

Snoke looks her in the eye. “I have financed quite a few wars in my day.”

“Oh.” Shan blanches at this reveal and turns away. Then wanders over to rack of instruments hanging off the wall.   She fingers at the rusty iron chains, at what looks to once have been a leather whip and at a few other accoutrements she would rather not identify. It’s unsettling to see this centuries old tangible evidence of Darkness.  Why would anyone want to use the Dark Side of the Force, she wonders.   What could possibly make all this pain worthwhile?

She is lost in thought when Snoke comes up from behind. He snaps an old metal manacle around her upraised right wrist.

“Hey!” she objects and pulls back her bound hand. Only to find that he has the other manacle around his own left wrist. Snoke tugs on her end and she stumbles slightly towards him. “I found it in the pile,” he tells her as if this makes it ok.

“You’re doing it again,” she complains.

“Doing what?”

“Flirting. And this is creepy flirting.”

His upraised bound hand clasps hers. Then he jerks her forward again and she nearly falls into him. “Hey!” She ends up grasping at him to steady herself lest she tumble to the ground and take him with her.

“Does this mean I can’t tie you up?” He snakes his free arm around her waist to steady her and now he’s basically holding her loosely in his arms.

“Oh, stop!” Shan is annoyed and she gives him a look.

Snoke ignores it. He’s so close to her now, his chin tilted down and Shan can feel his breath on her cheek. He pulls their bound and clasped hands to rest against chest. Then he whispers, “I would never hurt you, Shan. You should know that.”

She’s glaring up at him. “Now this is getting really creepy. And you can’t hurt me. I’m a Jedi, remember?”  With the briefest moment of concentration, Shan opens the manacles from both their wrists. They clatter noisily to the stone floor.

Snoke is still holding her hand. And his dark eyes are twinkling at her use of the Force. He’s not going to—he wouldn’t actually--

Shan ducks her head to avoid his lips. They land somewhere near her forehead. “Please don’t look at me like that. And don’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“It makes me uncomfortable,” she says into his chest.

“Look at me.” It’s a command more than a request and before Shan can stop herself, she has complied. Somehow, Snoke seems like a man very accustomed to commanding people. He’s moved his hands to cup her face and alarm bells are going off in her head because this is way too intimate of an embrace.   And the man had just tried to kiss her!

But still she remains in his arms.

Snoke’s lips are mere inches from hers now and she’s certain now that he’s going to kiss her. And certain also that she will let him. They stand like that for what feels like eternity before Snoke drops his hands from her face and steps back.

Part of her is disappointed.  

She watches as Snoke wanders to the far side of the chamber, his back to her. After a moment, he breaks the awkward silence and turns around.

“What would you do if you met a Sith?”

Okay, good. New topic. They can both pretend that almost kiss thing never happened. Shan exhales.

“Honestly? I would probably run the other direction. And you should too. I told you I’m not very good with a saber, remember? I wouldn’t be able to protect you.”

“Yes, the Jedi and the Sith were ancient enemies. I suppose his natural instinct would be to kill you.   What if this particular Sith didn’t want to kill you?”

“A friendly Sith?” Shan considers. “Well, in that case I would have lots of questions.”

“Such as?”

“First, I’d like to know what the Sith have been up to for the past thousand years.”

“A fair question. What else?”

“How friendly is this Sith?” Shan wants to know.

“Very friendly.”

“Then I’d like to understand more about the Dark Side of the Force.   We are taught to fear it. Master Yoda teaches that it’s addictive.   That once you start down the Dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny.”

“You are curious about Darkness?” Snoke raises an eyebrow at this.

Now he’s probably thinking she’s the worst Jedi ever, Shan realizes. She hastens to explain. “I’m curious about the Force. But no, I’m not interested in being seduced to the Dark Side. I would make a horrible Sith apprentice.”

“Why is that?”

“Bad saber skills, remember? The Sith were good at combat. I’m not,” she says bluntly.

“You might make a better apprentice than you think.” Snoke says this as if it were a goal to aspire to.  “The Sith desired power above all. Not killing.   And you, my girl, like power.”

“How so?” He’s lost her with that observation.

“You’re thirsty for knowledge. And knowledge is power, Shan.”

“Yesterday you said that money was power,” she reminds him.

“It is. Throughout history, all power comes from a combination of money, knowledge and the Force.”

Money, knowledge and the Force. Yes, that sounds about right, Shan thinks. And now it’s her turn to tease him. “Well, I know that you have lots of knowledge. And I presume that as a banker you have some money. If only you had the Force, Snoke, you would make a good Sith.”

“Indeed,” he agrees, failing to see the humor in this. “What else would you ask a Sith?”

Shan thinks a moment. “Force lightning. I’d ask him to show me Force lightning. I’ve seen it described in the old texts.”

“Force lightning?” She has surprised him. He chuckles. “Sounds dangerous.”

“Yes. Well, like I said. If we see a Sith, it’s time to run. In case of Force lightning.”

“And other things,” Snoke adds. “Not to worry, I will protect you, pretty Shan.”

“Then we’ll both be dead,” she laughs.


	4. Chapter 4

When Shan arrives at nightfall, she brings good news. The words spill forth in a rush of enthusiasm. She’s beaming.

 

“I am leaving Naboo! I have been reassigned to the temple on Coruscant! My Master wants me to assist her at the main Archives.”

 

Snoke digests this news and her excitement. His eyes narrow. “When do you leave?”

 

“In three days’ time.”

 

“So I get to see you tonight and tomorrow night?   And then you disappear forever on me?”

 

Snoke bursts her bubble.

 

“Er . . . yes.” Shan hadn’t thought about it that way.   She had focused only on the prospect of being posted to Coruscant. It’s where the most important work of the Jedi is done, where the High Council sits, where the diplomatic corps is headquartered and where the Archives are thousands of years old and full of fascinating stuff. This is a big opportunity for Shan, and she knows it.

 

But really, there’s no need for Snoke to act like this is the end of their friendship. Shan levels him a reproving look. “Jedi are not cloistered, Snoke. Do you ever get to Coruscant? If so, we can meet and you can tell me what’s new in your knowledge of the Sith.”

 

The tall banker reluctantly shakes his head no.  “I’m not very anonymous, Shan,” he tells her slowly. The handsome Muun is looking at her intently. “I cannot meet you for caf some random afternoon without attracting attention. And if you met me at night at my Coruscant apartment, tongues would wag.   Someone always sees, Shan.    My business and personal affairs are highly visible.  Markets trade on them.  Plus, our friendship might be . . . misconstrued.”

 

Shan hears all of his words but focuses on one thing.  “You have an apartment on Coruscant?” It’s the galaxy’s most expensive city. Snoke must be very successful if he can afford that. She’s impressed.

 

“I do.” Snoke chuckles at her reaction. “The Eternal City is the center of power for the known universe, Shan.  And power and banking go hand in hand."  He cocks his head at her.  "What will you do on Coruscant at the Archives?" he asks. 

 

“The usual support work for the diplomatic corps.  They are always asking for research and analysis on something or another. I do the overflow work from Coruscant here on Naboo as it is.  So that will be the same.   But now I will also be part of the team of Jedi to oversee the holochron vault.”  Just thinking about her new post makes Shan smile happily.  "Holochrons are an amazing resource for the Jedi.   Together, they contain the entire knowledge of the Jedi tradition in the Force. They are priceless treasure, Snoke."

 

“The Sith had holochrons, did you know?”

 

She did not.  “Really?  Are there any here?”

 

“There were. Let me show you where they were kept.”  

 

And then they are off down the stone stairs together.   As usual, Snoke expertly knows his way about the temple maze.  Shan has every confidence in his sense of direction down here.  She dutifully follows. 

 

They know little of each other's lives outside the confines of this mysterious Sith temple, but by this their fourth meeting she and Snoke are comfortable with each other in silence as well as conversation.  It is easy to be in his company, she thinks.   And Shan has to admit that she has looked forward to their meetings.  It has been since university since Shan has had a friend outside of the Order.

 

Impulsively, she asks him to reconsider, "Would it truly be too risky to meet on Coruscant every now and then?"

 

He glances over at her with a measuring look. "Are you going to miss me, Shan?"  

 

"Maybe a little."  She mimics his light tone. 

 

Snoke stops walking and fixes her with a teasing look. "I think you're going to miss this Sith temple." 

 

She laughs.  "That too."

 

"Sweet Shan," he backtracks to stand before her.  His hands cup her face again like last night.   "There is only tonight and tomorrow night for us now.  Nothing more."  She reluctantly nods her understanding.  They stare at one another a long breathless moment. And then his lips claim hers.

 

And oh! kissing is not how she thought it would be.  It is so much better.  When Shan was a teen, one of the other padawan girls had somehow gotten her hands on a racy novel.  The purple prose had been passed around the dormitory and Shan had read the earmarked pages like everyone else. And she too had speculated whether the rumors were true and the handsome human Qui-Gon Jinn had a secret lover in the Order.  Yes, like every other padawan Shan had gone through a phase when she been curious about sex and romance.  And that curiosity had passed in time as she had matured and focused on more suitable topics for a Jedi.  

 

There had been no opportunities for temptation along the way.   And Shan had not sought them out.  Even her silly hormonal university friends had all been appropriately respectful of her Jedi status.   They had whispered of their crushes and midnight antics mostly out of earshot.  In fact, no one had ever broached the topic of romance--let alone flirted with her--until Snoke.  

 

And here she is, kissing him passionately in the dim red light of a Sith temple.   

 

Her arms are around his neck and his hands grip her waist.  His tongue is in her mouth and her breasts press against his chest.  This is everything she has been warned not to do.  And for good reason.  For in this moment, Shan wants more.

 

More. She pulls him closer, arching her back and moaning into him. And then his hands drop lower to cup her as his hips move into hers.

 

Yes . . . more. She wants more of this man. She wants more of this passion.

 

Abruptly he pulls away.  

 

"I'm sorry," Shan instantly takes the blame as if she has been the aggressor.  She is flustered and panting. Blushing furiously.

 

“I’m not,” he says quietly.

 

Guilty. She feels guilty. Shan knows that this is not appropriate behavior. If there is a Jedi Hell, she is definitely going to it.

 

“Oh, Gods, what am I doing?” she wails softly. Shan raises a trembling hand to her forehead but he intercepts it.

 

"Shan," Snoke whispers reassurance as he squeezes her hand.   "It was only a kiss.   It is our secret. No one will ever know what we do here alone together."

 

She nods her agreement. Yes, she thinks, this will have to be a secret.  Because romance leads to attachment and that leads to being expelled from the Order. She’s not about to lose her head for this handsome Muun and throw her life away. He’d walk away to his busy life of spreadsheets and deals in his fancy Coruscant apartment, and she’d be cast out in disgrace. And then all the whispered horrors of life outside the Order would come true.   Shan would be on her own with no family or friends and no references and no real job history to speak of. She would own only her lightsaber and the clothes on her back.

 

She would be nothing and have nothing.

 

It’s a sobering thought. And it is just what Shan needs to remind her of reality. Regaining her composure, she is ready to move on now.  "Holochrons," she prompts him.

 

"Yes, holochrons."  He takes the cue.

 

They are back to the task at hand as if nothing had occurred.  She’s grateful for that. Snoke is discrete. She likes that.

 

He leads her to a doorway. "Careful," he cautions. As she approaches, she can see why.  Standing in the doorway, the toes of her boots hang off a deep precipice. Straight ahead she looks out upon a circular platform of some kind.  On the platform rests a transparent pyramid that contains empty shelves.  

 

"Oh," she breaths, staring at the empty shelves. "They're all gone." Snoke had told her this, of course, but seeing it firsthand is still deflating.

 

"Yes, someone has gotten here first."

 

"How do you get across?  Find the controls that extend the bridge," she urges.  She wants to see it all up close. 

 

"There is no bridge, Shan. You have to use the Force to approach a Sith holochron.  Only those worthy in the Dark Side may claim one.” He gestures at the inky blackness before her feet. “Hence the chasm. Claiming a holochron is a high stakes move. You don’t just fail, you die trying."

 

"So a Sith has been here!"  She looks to him, her dark eyes wide and snapping. 

 

He chuckles.  "So it would seem."

 

"That must have been long, long ago," she muses.   "Long before either of us."

 

"Perhaps.  Now step back.  You're making me nervous.  That's a very long drop."

 

She complies and backs up.  Then looks up. Shan had been so interested in the holochron room that she had missed the inscription above the doorway she stood in.  This lettering is very large and in Old Aurebesh.  She studies it.  Craning her neck to see better in the dim red haze that illuminates the temple.

 

"Now and for-ever," she squints at the letters. “The Sith . . . “

 

"shall rule the galaxy," Snoke finishes for her. 

 

"The Sith certainly were grandiose," she decides.  

 

"So says the humble Jedi," he remarks dryly. "Have you never had aspirations of your own?" he wonders. 

 

Shan thinks a moment then frowns. 

 

Snoke pounces. "You have!"

 

She shoots him a quelling look. "I'm a Jedi, Snoke. It's not supposed to be about me and what I want."

 

"Tell me," he urges. “I want to know. Share it with me.”

 

Shan frowns again but complies.  Something about this man is very commanding.  Whatever Snoke does at the IGBC, he must be a boss of some kind.   He is very comfortable telling people what to do.  

 

Shan schools her voice into a tone of nonchalance.  "The university on Coruscant approached me about taking a post in the history department last year.  It was a full tenure track professorship.  The real deal in academia.  And I wanted to do it.”

 

"But the Jedi wouldn't let you," he surmises from her expression.

 

She nods, biting her lip.  "My duty to the Order comes first, of course.  And my master thinks we are shorthanded in the Archives and she cannot spare me.  She's right," Shan concedes and then tries to explain.  "Few make our group their first choice.  The Archives are not glamorous.  We are not a prestigious assignment, Snoke."  Shan shrugs with an indifference she does not really feel.  "It's just us lousy padawans who barely passed the trials and a few old timers who have retired from fieldwork and don't want to take administrative positions." She falls silent. Talking about this still upsets her.

 

"I would have let you take the post," Snoke tells her.  

 

Shan smiles at this loyal cheerleading and tries in vain to make light of her disappointment.  "In that case, it's too bad you're not my master, Snoke."  

 

“Indeed,” he observes, watching her wipe at one eye.

 

“My master understood that it was important to me.  Instead, she let me take a small adjunct role at the university here in Naboo.  It's just not—“  Shan stops.  Why is she talking about this?  It sounds like she is badmouthing her master and the Order, which is something she would never do   That's not the Jedi way.  And Jedi are taught never to discuss internal matters with outsiders.

 

"It is not the same, is it?"  Snoke understands that her consolation prize was meager.

 

"No, it's not."  Not even remotely comparable.   Coruscant is the leading academic institution in the galaxy and Naboo U is, well, a party school in a pretty setting for rich Core World kids who generally could care less about their education.  "Master Nu thinks they may approach me again in a few years for the Coruscant post.  And perhaps then the time will be right."

 

Snoke's eyes narrow. "You're the best one they have in the Archives, aren't you?  All the rest got stuck there but you wanted to be there."

 

"Yes."  It's the truth. She is the best.  By far.

 

"The Jedi are holding you back," he observes pointedly.

 

"It's not like that."

 

"Ten thousand Jedi Knights across the galaxy and they can't spare one to take your place even for a few years?" he challenges.

 

Shan looks away. She doesn’t want to rehash this. "I respect the judgement of my master.  And there are rules for this sort of thing, Snoke."

 

"Do you always follow the rules, Shan?"

 

"Yes."  She does.  She is diligent, respectful and selfless as a Jedi should be.  More concerned with her obligations to the Order than her own fulfillment. But Snoke is looking at her now like that's a character flaw.  

 

"All except that kissing rule," he goads her with a smile and the comment brings a smile to her face too finally. 

 

"Oh, stop!" she objects.  But she's glad to talk about something else.  "That was our little secret, remem--".

 

Her voice tails off as her physical vision fades and her mental vision overtakes.  She reaches out and feels Snoke take her hand to steady her, as if he knows what is happening.   Shan clings to him like a lifeline as the Force floods her mind and the images appear.

  

_It is a human male teenaged padawan sporting a Jedi's tunic and the traditional tail braid.   His dark hair is cut short as is the custom for boys in training. It doesn't suit him, for it highlights the outsized ears and severe features he will grow into with time._

_Tools are spread around him. Reverently laid out in a single line.  The boy's face is a mask of concentration as he hunches over his task. This padawan is especially earnest. Fervent in his desire to excel, desperate even to impress.   A boy terrified by the past and determined to claim his own future.  To be his own man._

_There.  It is done. He stands and extends his arm, the fruits of his labor in the teen's trembling grasp. When the saber lights it is with a one-two snap and buzz. The red blade is in the shape of a cross._

_Shan knows two things with certainty.   That this sword will decide the fate of the galaxy.  And that whoever this awkward boy is, he matters._

 

And just as suddenly as the vision had appeared, it fades.  Shan is back in the temple with Snoke.  She's in his arms, her head held pressed firmly to his shoulder by his large Muun hand.  

 

"What did you see?"  Snoke demands.  

"How did you know?" she whispers, still disoriented.

 

"Tell me," Snoke commands again, thrusting her back from him so they look eye to eye.

 

Her words come out in spurts. Quietly. "A Jedi padawan will sit here in this Temple. He builds a lightsaber. It's in the shape of a cross.  It's red."

 

Snoke nods, thinking out loud.  "That sounds like an old Sith crossguard design with quillon vents. Those swords were unstable. Difficult to make and even more difficult to master. Quite a challenge for a boy. Tell me more."

 

"He was anxious and worried. He wanted to impress." Shan falters, the insight rushing up fast at her in the Force. "He wanted to impress . . . you."  She pulls back from Snoke's arms to stare at him.  “You?” She is bewildered by this revelation.

 

Snoke does not react but Shan is shocked. Her visions always come true in some form or the other.  She considers her companion anew.  

 

He sees her scrutiny.  "Perhaps I will finance his war," Snoke quips.  

 

But no, that's not it.  "Who are you?" Shan whispers to the Muun banker with the blank Force imprint, opaque mind and extensive knowledge of the Sith.  Despite the hours they have spent in each other’s company, she realizes just now how little she knows about this man. Shan has shared far more about her life than Snoke has about his.

 

He brushes off the question.  "Do you often have visions?"

 

"They come and go.   Sometimes they are trigged by people or by places.” Shan furrows her brow. “We are taught that the future is always in motion, that visions usually mislead and cloud your path.  But not mine. Mine always come true."  She grips his hand tighter.  "Snoke, listen to me. Someday a Jedi boy will make a Sith lightsaber here in this very Temple at your behest."

 

Snoke tries again with a flippant explanation. "Perhaps this means I shall become a celebrated Sith historian and inspire others to take up their long lost cause."  

 

Shan just looks at him.  She is troubled. "No, I don’t think that’s what it means."

 

"Then how would you explain it?"

 

"I don’t know."

 

"Did you see me in the future?" Snoke wants to know.

 

"No. In fact, I hardly see you now in the Force.   You look like most people do. Alive and breathing and anonymous."  No, she thinks, this man who so clearly admires the Sith could never be one. He is utterly dead to the Force.

 

 "Oh, dear." She catches the look of annoyance that crosses his features.  "That came out wrong.  Did I hurt your feelings?"  She asks this anxiously.  Snoke doesn't strike her as a man who will appreciate being described as anonymous.  

 

"Not at all, pretty Shan.  Not at all."  


	5. Chapter 5

_**I**_ **_don’t know how to tag/caption this chapter, and I am wary of offending people like I did with Fulcrum.  I don't think there is anything shocking in this chapter, but clearly I am not as sensitive as other readers.  So here goes:  Non-Con doesn’t fit here, but our heroine isn’t consenting to everything that’s going to happen.  If you are reading this, you have probably read Fulcrum so you will recognize what’s going on.   My best advice is to stop reading if you are offended by sex or violence.  This story is rated M for a reason.  And the man's name is Snoke.   He's a Sith, remember_** _?_

  

 

Snoke is waiting for her, as usual.  It's almost a routine now for Shan to find herself at the temple at dusk. But tonight that all comes to an end.  Their parting is on her mind as she approaches and it's the first thing she says. 

 

“I leave tomorrow morning for Coruscant.”

 

Snoke bows to her, as is his custom.  He seems especially formal tonight as he acknowledges her comment solemnly. “Then tonight is the night, my dear.  I have saved the very best for last."  

 

Snoke holds out his hand and she reaches for it eagerly. 

 

"Where are we going?"  Shan is the first one through the archway and down the stairs into the interior.

 

"You shall see." Snoke is smug like he knows a secret that he is refusing to share.  It's boyishly wicked, she decides. So she tries again.

 

"Not even a hint?" They have switched places and now he leads while she follows.

 

"We are going to the only spot in the temple that is open to the outside. To let in moonlight. It is very special, Shan."

 

"It’s a full moon tonight," she tells him, remembering the rising moon she had glimpsed in the night sky.

 

Snoke smiles over at her but still he is cryptic.  "Yes, I know. That full moon is important for tonight."

 

They keep walking and walking.   This is the furthest yet she has been into the temple interior.  And it feels like they are descending.  Shan is quite lost when finally Snoke announces that they have reached their destination.

 

"Here we are.  Take my hand."  She does.

 

Together they step into a large chamber.   It is empty except for a large, white stone table.  Above the table is a high vaulted ceiling crowned with an oculus opening to the outside.  Night has fallen by now.   Starlight and light from Naboo's single moon stream in to blanket the stone table, making it almost appear to glow.   Otherwise, the chamber is unlit. Its corners shrouded in still darkness.  

 

It is stark in its simplicity, she thinks. And eerily beautiful.

 

"The ritual chamber," Snoke announces as he leads her inside.  "Here an apprentice would pledge his loyalty, a curse would be spoken, a marriage vow given, an enemy sacrificed, a treaty agreed.   This is a place of beginnings and ends.  This is the alpha and the omega.  Where the Dark Side of the Force would combine with power or passion or blood.  Sometimes, with all three."

 

Snoke turns to her, looking her squarely in the eye. "The things done here mattered, Shan.  And they could not be undone.  For a Sith, this place means forever."

 

"Forever," she echoes softly.  Shan pulls free from his hand and approaches the table.  Running one hand around its perimeter, she circles it slowly.  

 

He stands back, watching her.

 

"I can feel the Force here," she tells him as she tries to identify the mix of strong emotions that seem to stain the table she is touching. Anticipation.  Longing. Dread.  Pride. Pain. Lust. Rage. Satisfaction. “A lot has happened here," she decides, frowning at this woefully inadequate description.  

 

This place is unsettling.   Shan is alarmed by something she can’t quite pinpoint.  And her sense of danger is heightening by the moment. She looks to Snoke and stammers out words. "I should leave--a Jedi shouldn't be here." 

 

She makes for the door, but he catches her.  Firmly leading her back into the room.  

 

"You are safe, Shan.  And you are welcome here.  Sit."  He seats her on the stone table.  “Now look up.” Her eyes follow his gesture and she looks up through the sky light.  A far off planet shows smack in the middle of the circular opening.

 

"What is it?" she asks, squinting.

 

"Coruscant," he tells her.  "For millennia, it has been the seat of power for the galaxy.  It is the aim of all Sith."

 

"And the home to the Jedi," she finishes softly.  

 

"I thought that you should see this,” Snoke tells her. “Since you are leaving me for Coruscant tomorrow."

 

It’s a sweet gesture, she thinks. And it makes her smile.

 

"Next time you are here, look up and know that I will be thinking of you. Wishing I were in this temple hearing you speak of the Sith."  Shan means these words. She will miss Snoke and his rambling old temple.

 

"Stay with me."  He stands before her now, reaching to claim both of her hands.   "You do not have to go."

 

"Of course, I do."  Shan must obey her master.  It is the Jedi way.  And seeing Snoke now, she knows it is best that they part tonight.  In their brief acquaintance, Snoke has become far too possessive.  It is unwise for either of them to continue this friendship   This is how attachments start, she realizes.  

 

Yes, this is dangerous.  One of them is going to get hurt. Maybe both of them.   And they are not lovesick teens. She and Snoke are both old enough and wise enough to know better. They each have responsibilities and obligations. It is foolish for them to play at being star-crossed lovers. But as Shan looks up into his handsome face, she is tempted. Yes, she most definitely could form an attachment with this man.

 

But she won’t. “Snoke, we both know that I can’t stay. And that this friendship needs to end. For both our sakes.” She says this as gently as possible.

 

He doesn’t fight her. He’s a man of the world and he too recognizes the futility of the situation.

 

"Then will you kiss me goodbye?   Here in this secret place where no one will know but us?"  His hands are sliding up her arms now.  He steps closer and she parts her knees and now it’s far too intimate an embrace.  

 

"Kiss me, Shan," he urges, pressing closer still.  "Give me something to remember you by."  

 

Then his lips find hers. 

 

His kiss is gentle at first. But it is persistent and it builds. Passion and heat and desire spiraling fast out of control. Shan matches him with equal fervor. And a sense of desperation too. This is only the second kiss of her lifetime and it likely will be her last. She’s going to make it count.   Shan wants something to remember him by too.

 

She’s so distracted by his rapturous kiss that she doesn’t notice that Snoke’s hands are untying her tunic until the cool air hits her chest. She clutches at the fabric to cover herself, but Snoke stays her hands. “No. Let me see you.”   He pushes her tunic away from her shoulders and she’s sitting there with heavy breasts spilling out of her faded bra.  

 

Snoke traces a finger down the deep cleft of her cleavage. She gasps at this boldness. “Twi’lek curves on a Muun,” he whispers. “I thought so.”

 

And suddenly she is shy beneath his gaze. Embarrassed as always about her body. She’s a Muun and her people are all graceful and nearly gaunt.   But not Shan. Even when Shan had been doing her intensive field training, she had remained fleshy and firm. A rare full bodied padawan among the mostly slim and athletic builds of the other females. Time and hours sitting in the library have only ripened her curves.

 

Shan looks down, but Snoke places a finger beneath her chin to raise her face.

“You are gorgeous. Believe me when I tell you that. If you had lived on your homeworld you would understand how beautiful you are. How rare and prized are your face and your figure. Men would be walking into walls as you pass, so thoroughly do you distract them. And then you would know the lure and power of your beauty. We men are slaves to the power of beauty.”

 

“I-I--,” she falters, lost in this string of compliments.   But his words ring true in the Force. He’s not lying to her. Never in a million years would she have thought herself beautiful. She’s the overbig, overtall bookish Muun who spends her time writing dissertations late at night while pounding cups of caf. She’s the forgettable one who tries to make up for her lack of dashing Jedi accomplishments by being the friendly, helpful assistant in the Archives. She’s the perpetual bystander who spends her days reading and cataloguing the exploits and accomplishments of others.

 

Shan knows she is many admirable things. But beautiful? Really?

 

“If there were a temple on Muunilinst, some lucky Muun would have coaxed you away from the Jedi long ago.”

 

That brings a smile to her face. “No one leaves the Jedi.” Shan shakes her head at this outrageous flattery.

 

He leans in to kiss her cheek, his breath on her ear. “Seventeen, my dear. Seventeen have left. But not for love. For the Sith. Men rarely throw it all away for love. They do it for power.”

 

There he goes again with his random observations of the Sith.

 

Snoke unclasps his banker’s robe, tossing it on the ritual table beside them. Underneath, he’s wearing a plain black t-shirt and trousers.   And even these underclothes look expensive and luxurious.

 

Shan stares for a moment as she tentatively runs a hand up his bare arm. Feeling the rippling, hard muscles beneath his grey skin. His lean and strong body is so different from her yielding softness.   He reminds her of the male Jedi knights in the field.   With their upper bodies honed to chiseled perfection from hours spent practicing lightsaber forms. Ever ready for aggressive negotiations. Whatever Snoke does when he’s not banking, she thinks, it must be strenuous.

 

Then he reaches to pull off his t-shirt and the rest of Snoke matches his ripped arms. This banker looks like he could be a Sith lord of old, hardened by years of physical training and war. He has a vertical line of small dark tattoos running from his right shoulder down to his waist.   Fascinated, Shan looks closer. They look like the symbols from the temple walls. “What is it?” she asks as she traces a finger down the narrow column of runes.   He shivers at her touch and it excites her.

 

“It’s an invocation in Kittat, the ancient language of the Sith.   To protect my sword arm,” he tells her. And this makes her smile. As if a banker would wield a sword.   This man’s admiration for the Sith is an obsession, she realizes.   But it’s also endearing. Shan knows what it’s like to feel enamored of the past and a bit bored of your everyday. There is a certain romance looking back at the glory of times gone by.

 

She looks up to smile at him and again he claims her mouth. His kiss is hard and rough now. Exciting. Finally, he breaks away. He’s panting as he tells her, “Take it off, Shan, let me see you.” She understands and obeys, reaching to undo her bra. Her heavy breasts are released to fall free and Snoke sucks in a loud breath.

 

And then his hands are all over her chest.  Kneading her, stroking her, pinching her, worshiping her.  And, oh, it feels amazing.  "Lay back," he commands and now she's laying on the stone table naked to the waist as his mouth leans in to lavish attention on her uncovered breasts.

 

"Oh, Gods," she pants.  “Yes!”

 

"There are no gods, Shan," he whispers between kisses.  "There is only the Force."

He's right.  And the Force is swirling around them now.   Shan feels its unusual pitch and roll and knows that this signifies change to come.  A disturbance in the Force is growing somewhere out there in the galaxy.   It must be something profound for her to sense it down here so intensely.

 

“We should stop,” Snoke says this softly and somehow it disappoints her.  But he’s right, she knows.  This is dangerous.   Foolish, even.  Master Nu would be horrified.  Shan herself is slightly horrified. But not enough to stop.

 

“Yes, this is dangerous,” he agrees. Wait—had she said that out loud? But Snoke doesn’t stop. He just moves his attention to the other breast. “Dangerous,” he murmurs before he bites down ever so slightly on her nipple. She gasps. Then arches up against him. And moans.

 

Suddenly, Snokes pulls back from her. His dark eyes glitter in the moonlight, mesmerizing her.   He’s compelling and she can’t look away. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse and breathless. “You can tell me to stop, Shan.  But you need to tell me now." He trails a lone finger down her cheek.   “You don’t have to do this. I will let you run away.”

 

Stop? Run away? That’s the last thing Shan wants. She’s in the arms of a handsome, tall Muun who thinks she’s beautiful. And when he sucks her nipples she wants to cry aloud with pleasure and something in her throbs for more.

“You leave tomorrow. This is our only chance. Tell me that you want this. Tell me that you will be mine.”

 

Again, Snoke is right. This is her only chance. Tomorrow she will be back in the Coruscant library with a stack of datafiles to shelve and an inbox full of requests for research.   Only once her work is done will Shan get back to revising her own thesis draft.   Which means it will be very late when she creeps into the women’s dormitory to fall asleep to memories of the drug like kisses of this handsome Muun.

 

That’s all this will ever be—a blissful, lusty memory. One night of recklessness, one small lapse, in an otherwise completely obedient, unremarkable Jedi career. A secret known only to her and to Snoke.

 

Gods, Shan thinks as she stares back at his dark eyes, if she is ever going to do this, it’s tonight. Tonight with this beguiling man who has perfect teeth and a craggy Muun smile and a mind so full of knowledge.   Tonight in the ritual chamber of a Sith temple, under the spell of the forgotten, forbidden past as starlight streams down on them and Coruscant looms overhead  This is her only chance for a taste of the taboo passion others enjoy daily.  

 

She’s a Jedi and she will accept the restrictions of her chosen life. But not tonight. Not in the face of this temptation.

 

Shan meets his eyes to tell him, “Yes--yes, I want this. Just this once, I want this.” She reaches to stroke his cheek and whispers, “I want you.”

 

Snoke nods.  He's unbuckling her belt now, releasing her skirt and sliding it down as she arches to raise her hips.  She kicks off her boots.  There's no turning back now.  She is naked but for her panties. Laying back on the table, her legs spread wide and dangling.

 

“Not once.  Forever.”  Snoke has his mouth on her breasts and his hand between her thighs and she quivers with pleasure. Shan has her wits about her, but just barely. 

 

“I can’t give you forever. I’m a Jedi. Attachment is forbidden. Possession is forbidden. It is one night and never again.”

 

“I am greedy for you, sweet Shan."  She hears a tear and suddenly her panties are gone.  His fingers are inside her now, where no man has ever been.  Where no man should ever be.    "Give me forever and I will be your Revan and you will be my Bastila Shan."

 

Shan has no idea what Snoke is rambling on about. And why are they arguing about this? There is no forever for her and Snoke.   “All we have is tonight.” She gasps out these words.  His touch is driving her wild with desire.  

 

He's kissing her navel now. Teasing his tongue inside even as his fingers tease her down below.  She's moaning.   Incoherent, wildly aroused and beyond caring.   She wants more.  

 

And he's ready to give it to her.  Unbuckled and unzipped and poised at her slick core. He pauses there, his fingers parting her. What is he waiting for? Shan presses against him.  Urging him on. More, she wants more.

 

“Shan, hear me now. Hear this vow.” He is gazing down at her and for an odd moment his eyes seem to gleam yellow in the moonlight.  “I will be your passion. I will give you strength. And together, we will gain power and victory. The Force has brought us together, the Force will bind us, and the Force will set us free.”

 

What??

 

"Tell me that you agree."

 

There it is again, the flash of yellow in his eyes.   The moonlight is playing tricks on her.   He blinks and it’s gone. If it was ever there in the first place. Shan is pretty certain she’s not thinking straight currently.

 

"Tell me that you agree,” he urges. “Give yourself to a Sith."

 

This is a fantasy for him too, Shan realizes.  One night of pretend for an overworked Sith-loving banker who has too much position and not enough time to meet her for caf.  He's deaf to the Force and will never fully understand the Sith ways he so admires.  And there are no Sith girls around to sleep with so as a Jedi, she's probably the next best thing.  

 

That's ok with Shan. Maybe they are using one another tonight. But it's mutual and it's only one night. 

 

It doesn’t mean anything.

 

"Shan??"

 

This waiting is torturous.  She's already consented.  But apparently her gentleman banker needs to hear it again. "Yes, yes.” It comes out as a slurred moan.

 

And with one quick movement, he slams the full length of him into her.  Shan cries out involuntarily at this treatment. It hurts.  Oh, it hurts.  He’s so large and this is her first time.

 

"Relax."  He soothes her with kisses.  "Relax, my beautiful Shan.  No more pain, I promise.  Only pleasure."   And her body does adjust to the intrusion.  To the throbbing thick feel of him deep within.  To the pulsing hot thrust that overfills her.  

 

The pain subsides and slowly he starts to move.  Scraping her slick insides and spreading pleasure just as he had promised.  And, oh, why has she waited so long to do this? In her fantasies she would do this all night every night with this man. Over and over again. 

 

"Yes, my Shan, we shall." He whispers as if he knows her thoughts. 

Snoke is thrusting harder now.  Rocking her whole body along with him. He is sweating now from the exertion. His muscles taut and visible.  In the moment, he is so utterly male, so dominant and overwhelming.  So . . . Sith.  

 

"Surrender to the passion,” he commands to her. “Give in to it."

He has slipped his hand on her stomach, dipping his thumb between their bodies to flick at her.  And it's too much.  The press of his finger, the force of his thrust--the sensory overload has her reeling. 

The Force is swirling around them both.  She wishes Snoke could feel it too.   How he would love the sense of fate that surrounds them.   She arches up and it's just enough to change the angle and now she can't breathe.  Her body is tensing around him and she can feel his rhythm quicken.  

 

"Close.  So close," he groans.

 

She doesn't know if Snoke is talking about her or him, but this feels like she is dying.  And it’s occurring in the best possible way.  Her consciousness blurs into the Force, dissolving into the swirl of energy that engulfs them both.   And there is no Dark, no Light, just the Force flaring to blind her mind's eye as her body shudders and convulses in ultimate pleasure.

 

"YES!"  She hears his roar. It is primal. "YES!  Feel your power!   Feel your Force!" With one last hard, deep thrust he spends himself. His words ring loud in the room. “I claim this Light for Darkness!”

 

What? Shan is numb in the immediate aftermath.  Depleted. Bewildered. Confused.

 

His face hovers over hers.  “Look at me!” Snoke hisses. 

 

Shan opens her eyes. And then recoils in sudden terror.

 

Snoke’s dark eyes are now bright yellow.   Shining back at her like a predator spotted in the night.  There is no mistaking it.

 

His voice booms triumphant as he boasts, “I am Darth Plagueis the Wise. Apprentice to Tenebrous and Master to Sidious. Someday my name will be on these temple walls!”

 

He reaches for something—she’s not sure what—from inside his discarded banker’s robe. Then grabs her left wrist to hold it down hard above her head. She’s pinned under his body when he slashes open her exposed left palm.

 

Shan cries out in pain, but Snoke silences her with his kiss.   She’s left whimpering and squirming beneath him. Feeling blood pour forth from her hand and terrified that his next slash will be her throat.

 

“No, dear. I will never hurt you.” His forehead rests against hers. His voice is softer now but no less menacing. “You are mine now and forever, Shan. I am your Sith.”

 

He’s still inside her as he says this. Filling her, owning her, claiming her for his own even as she cringes from his touch.

 

In her shock, Shan doesn’t comprehend.  

 

What is happening? What has she done?

 

Those are the final thoughts she remembers before Snoke waves his hand and everything goes black.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last bit written on my phone on vacation. My apologies for the typos and weird spacing. Back in the USA tonight and updates will likely slow due to real life.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is AU completely, meaning:  
> •I am taking some liberties with the EU/Legends backstory for Darth Plagueis.  
> •In Fulcrum, Snoke says he kept his Jedi wife a secret, but I am changing that for this story. Didn’t want my girl locked away like poor Kylo did to Rey. And, I’ve been there, done that story already.  
> •This deviates from how the sequel trilogy is likely to portray Snoke. Please do not complain that this isn’t canon. It isn’t supposed to be.

Awareness floods her mind and with a jolt she is awake. Shan rolls over to discover that she is lying in a bed. A huge bed, wide and long and hung with sumptuous dark curtains as if fit for an ancient king. The bed is unfamiliar and so is the sun streaked chamber it resides in.

 

She pushes back the blanket that wraps her and freezes as she recognizes it is his. Shan is naked still. Covered loosely in Snoke's heavy banker's robe that she had last seen casually discarded before she had succumbed the passion of his embrace.   

 

Before she had given herself willingly and unwittingly to the Sith.  

 

Memories tear through her mind. The utter abandon of ultimate pleasure.  A rush of Force that had accompanied it.   The reveal of the Sith. His frightening yellow eyes. An intentional wound to her hand. Bold words and a declaration.   Sudden blackness. And then nothing. . . until now. 

 

Her hand throbs, prompting Shan to clench it and that only makes it throb more. It is bandaged now. She peeks under the gauze covering to find a raw, angry looking mark that looks like a knife wound. It probably needs a bacta patch, she thinks, or maybe an old fashioned stitch.   More than this rudimentary attempt. But at least it shows no signs of infection. Shan is thankful that she seems to have no additional injuries.   Aside from the cut on her hand and the dull ache between her legs, nothing else hurts.

 

Nothing physical, that is.

 

There is no one to see her but Shan is modest by habit, wrapping the rumpled fabric around her loosely as she rises to her feet. His robe smells of sex and sweat and fear.

 

Shan tries to ignore it. She closes her eyes to center herself. To steady her racing mind. To find the Force. She's a Jedi, and she knows that calm and focus are the first steps to escaping danger.

 

Incredibly, her saber lies resting on a table beside the bed. She quickly plucks it.  Shan folds her fingers tightly around the hilt.  Its heft and feel are reassuringly familiar.     This weapon is your life, Shan had been taught as a young child.   Those words are never more true than they are today, she thinks grimly.

 

Holding her saber helps a little. For Shan needs comfort now. She is terrified of what may lie ahead.  

 

The far wall of the room is all windows and she steps close to peer out.  She is in a high building in a great city. This is not Naboo. The rest is a mystery.  But there are people, which means somewhere there will be safety and maybe even a Jedi temple.

 

It’s time to get out of here. Now before her seducer returns. Shan searches the room for her clothes. Flings open doors to a large closet, to a dressing room, to a refresher. Her clothes are nowhere to be found.  But everywhere there are signs of him. This must be his room, she surmises.   And she had awoken on his bed.

 

A knock sounds on the door and Shan flinches. It must be him. The Sith.

 

Frantically she tightens the wrapped fabric about her body, stuffing the excess into her armpit.  Then rises tall to her maximum height. Chin up, eyes forward. Shan will meet her destiny head on and proud like a Jedi should. No matter how humiliating her past transgressions, she isn't going down without a fight. 

 

"Enter," she calls coldly. The door slides open. 

 

It's a human man. Advanced in years, slight in build and balding. Wearing a neat black uniform. He bows a wordless greeting before stepping into the room. 

 

And nearly into the tip of her outstretched sword. The old man leaps a step back and she lunges forward as the saber ignites in her hand.   It hums poised for the kill at the newcomer's throat. 

 

"Who are you?" Shan demands. 

 

"I am called Milo," the old man answers quietly.   His voice is calm and careful and so are his eyes.  

 

"Where am I?" she demands.  

 

"You are in the city of Harnaidan on the planet Muunilinst in the home of my master."

 

"The Muun Sith?"

 

He nods. "Yes, my lady."

 

"Where are my clothes?" Shan demands.

 

"You did not arrive clothed.   My master carried you in wrapped in his robe, my lady."

 

The servant says this matter of fact, without judgement. Still, Shan blushes to the roots of her hair. Shame burns through her, and she has only herself to blame.  Hot tears she cannot hold back sting her vision. But with a lightsaber in one hand and the other hand clutching tight the fabric that covers her, Shan cannot brush them away. 

 

Seeing her watery eyes and trembling lower lip, the old man's expression softens. "Do not be afraid," Milo tells her kindly, as though he were the one with a sword to her throat and not vice versa.   "I mean you no harm."

 

Shan feels his sincerity in the Force and his unexpected compassion is her undoing. The tears start to fall. 

 

It is then that the door slides open again and the Muun Sith himself steps through.

 

Shan fails to stifle her involuntary gasp. 

 

He takes in her dramatic pose.  The saber thrust forward at shoulder level and poised to kill. Her nakedness hastily covered by his robe but still with one leg peeking out bare nearly to her waist. The tearstained, desperate face with hardened expression.

 

"Milo, leave us," he orders quietly.  Shan watches as the old man departs.  And when the door slides shut, she swings for the Sith.  

 

He's unarmed and she doesn't care. This man has seduced her under false pretenses, wounded her and kidnapped her.   And he is a Sith, the ancient enemy of the Jedi. Shan isn’t about to wait around passively for him to victimize her again. She’s no one’s fool.

 

It's a graceful quick swing followed by a timely thrust but he sidesteps to safety.  Then he weaves easily through her series of classic Ataru follow-up passes. And now he's in the room and she's got her back to the door and Shan has lost the advantage of backing Snoke into the wall. 

 

"Good morning, Shan."

 

Snoke says this in his habitual pleasant and formal tone as if this were an ordinary meeting between them. And he's smiling, damn him.  His grin only broadens as Shan stumbles slightly on his trailing robe.  

 

"I was just leaving," she snarls.   “But first I’m going to kill you.” Shan swings low now and nearly gets his left leg.   Instead, she singes his clothes. Snoke doesn't seem to notice. 

 

"No, my dear, you are not leaving."

 

Staying is not an option as far as Shan is concerned.   "I don’t know who you are, or where you came from, but I am leaving."  She feints right and swings left and nearly takes his head off.  But again, the agile Sith leaps back to safety in the nick of time.   Snoke is very fast for such a big Muun.

 

He eyes her awkward movements dragging his robe.   She can tell he's trying not to laugh.  "I admire your commitment to modesty.  Really, I do.  Your wholesomeness is part of your allure.  Perhaps it will rub off on me."

Shan scowls and answers with a lunge.  But once again he has anticipated her.   It annoys her that Snoke doesn’t look the least bit afraid. If anything, he seems to be enjoying the challenge of eluding her blade while unarmed himself. How had she ever been foolish enough to believe that this man was an ordinary businessman?

 

“Did I hurt you?" he asks.  She follows his gaze to her exposed leg.   A single long drip of blood has trailed down to her ankle and dried dark red against her grey skin. There's more smeared dried blood on her thigh.

 

"Yes, I see that I hurt you. I am sorry for that, Shan. Use your healing techniques. It will not hurt again, my dear. Do not fear loving me.”

 

"I don’t love you!"  Shan spits these words at him.  And again, her sword is a blue blur as she presses him back further in the room.  If she can just get him to the windows, she might be able to shatter one with her sword and throw this lowly seducer out to his death.  

 

She wonders how many other women before her have woken up naked and kidnapped to this man's bed.  Yes. . . it would serve this Sith bastard right to die gruesomely.  She'd be doing a good deed for women everywhere in the galaxy. 

 

And no one at the Jedi temple is going to fault her for killing a Sith. She just won’t tell anyone that he was unarmed at the time. They wouldn’t like that, she knows.

 

Shan keeps driving him back when she trips again on the robe. It catches on her toe and unwinds from her body and suddenly she's stark naked before him.  And now he can't stifle his laughter any longer.   The wretched man is guffawing at her.  

 

"I have heard the newlywed advice to only fight in the nude.  But this takes it to a whole new level."

 

"I am going to kill you," Shan says through gritted teeth.  She means it.   And so what if she's naked.  He's seen it all before. 

 

But apparently Snoke can't stop looking at it again, for she sees his eyes follow her bouncing breasts like a man transfixed.  And now, the tables have turned and she has the advantage.   For the first time ever, Shan is thankful for all of her jiggle. 

 

With a shimmy that belongs in a strip tease, Shan does her best to distract him before her next volley of saber passes.  It works. Now she's got him backed almost to the windows where she wants him.  He too must realize the danger for he produces a saber from beneath his banker’s robe. 

 

It ignites with a one-two snap and buzz.  Shan stares at his lit red crossguard sword. It looks just like the one in her vision of the teenaged boy in the temple. 

 

The sight of it stops her cold. She's never fought an actual opponent before.  Snoke is armed now and it's a fair fight.  Looking at his scary Sith sword, Shan sucks in a breath.

He holds his sword down.  "Disengage, Shan, and this ends now at a draw," he offers.  "I do not wish to hurt you.  And this will not solve anything."

Her eyes narrow.  She has been fooled once by Snoke, and she won’t be fooled twice. This Sith is going out the window if she has to go with him.   She reaches out to the Force, wishing she had paid more attention to battle trances and lightsaber form strategies years ago.   Dropping to classic Jedi ready position, she wiggles her ass just enough to get his attention and then strikes.  

 

And, oh, Gods, he is so strong!  The power behind his saber's impact is enough to radiate all the way up her sword arm.   Quickly, Shan switches to a two-handed grip, wincing at the sharp sting coming from her left palm.   If she hadn’t already dropped the robe, she would now because Shan is not a match for Snoke’s strength with only her right arm. This isn't like sparring with the other padawans years ago.  Snoke is lightning fast and swinging with overwhelming force. It's a lethal combination.  

 

Snoke does not attack, he only defends.  But in doing so he effectively blocks all access to the door. Within minutes Shan runs through all the attack patterns she knows.  And makes up a few on the fly while she's at it.   He evades it all easily no matter how she changes up the timing.   

 

Snoke regards her efforts with almost clinical interest, cocking his head to the side. "You are far better with a saber than you think.  If you practice, you could be formidable.  And most importantly, you have controlled your fear.    You are cool under pressure.  Well done, my dear."  He nods approvingly.   

 

Shan hesitates.  She doesn't know what to make of this unanticipated praise.   He sounds almost proud of her. 

 

Seeing her confusion, Snoke cajoles her. "Disengage, Shan. You have never killed anything more threatening than a bug, have you?"

 

It’s true.   But she is determined, nonetheless. "There’s a first time for everything."

 

He chuckles.  "You do not start small, I see. How many Jedi can boast that their first kill was a Sith lord?  You shall be the hero of the holochron vault, Shan.  Maybe then, they will let you take that professor post."  

 

How Shan longs to wipe that smile off his face with her saber. 

 

"Disengage, Shan.  We should talk this out, not fight this out.  You cannot win and this will not solve anything.  Though I have to admit," he favors her with that slow, broad smile she has seen before, "I am enjoying the view."

 

Shan bites her lip, wavering.  She can't win, he's right.  But she's not ready to give up yet. Taking a deep breath, she goes in for another try.  But this time, her sword meets a twisting red blur as Snoke effortlessly disarms her, sending her saber hilt flying across the room.  Before it hits the ground, it leaps into Snoke's outstretched left hand.  

 

Shan's heart sinks.   

 

He must sense her discouragement. “Do not be too hard on yourself.  My Apprentice has not mastered blocking that move yet either. Now," he tells her as he extinguishes his own sword, "this is the one and only time that I will fight you with a saber, Shan.  I hope that you have gotten it out of your system.  I do not desire conflict between us."

 

Shan scowls at him. 

 

He crosses the room to pick up the fallen robe.  Shan backs up a step as he approaches. She never gets to take another step.  Snoke wraps his power around her and Shan is frozen in place.  Completely immobilized and unable to resist as he drapes his robe over her shoulders to cloak her nakedness.  Then he leans in to gently kiss her lips. 

 

Then Snoke starts issuing instructions.  This is the man accustomed to command who she remembers from the temple. “I have several matters to attend to since I had not planned on lingering so long on Naboo.  But I will see you tonight for dinner.  We will discuss things then. I am sure you have many questions."

"Milo will bring you some food and anything else that you require. Find something of mine to wear for now.  And make yourself comfortable.  This is your home now, Shan.  This is not a prison but for today I am locking this door with the Force.   Do not waste effort attempting to get out." 

 

Snoke pauses as one last thought occurs to him.  “And do not murder old Milo. Good help is hard to find, even for the Sith.” Then he releases his Force hold and heads for the door.

 

A muffled sob immediately escapes her lips. Hot tears pour down her cheeks. “W-Why?” she calls after him, her voice cracking. “Why have you d-done this? What do you w-want from me?”

 

Snoke turns back to her. His expression softens.

 

“I l-liked you. I t-trusted you. I let y-you--“ Shan can’t say the words out loud.   The shame of it all is so overwhelming. She is the biggest fool in the galaxy.

 

Snoke looks her in the eye. His tone is firm. “This is necessary, Shan. This is the only way for us to be together. I want us to be together.”

 

“We can never be together!” she wails.  

 

“From this day forward, we are together.” The Sith raises his left hand to display it to her. His palm is red and diagonally slashed the same as hers.  “I am yours, Shan, and you are mine. We are married now, together forever in the Force.”

 

“WHAT??” Her jaw drops. Of all the things Shan had been fearing, marriage had never been among the list of possibilities. She raises her own left hand to frown at the bandage that covers it. Did this wound mean something?

 

“You are my lady and I am your Sith,” he informs her softly.

 

Shan is outraged. “I never agreed to—“

 

“Yes,” he cuts her off. “You did.”

 

“I agreed to sleep with you! I didn’t agree to marry you!” She is shaking now from a mix of fear and anger. What has she done? Shan rips the bandage off her left hand, staring at the slash wound that matches his own.

 

“You gave your virgin body to me in the moonlight in a ritual chamber of a Sith temple. Under any interpretation of Sith tradition, we are irrevocably married. All that is required is consent, a full moon, sex and blood.”

 

Shan is stunned. Gaping at him. “This c-can’t be happening,” she whispers her thoughts aloud. “This isn’t fair! You can’t do this! I won’t accept this!”

 

Snoke is unmoved. “Already we have fought it out. Now perhaps you should cry it out. But accept it, Shan. Our life together starts today.”   He bows to her in his usual formal way. “I will see you tonight, wife.” 


	7. Chapter 7

Shan does waste time trying to open the door. Over an hour, actually. But then, she gives up. Shan has never encountered anything locked with the Force before. No matter how hard she tries, no matter how many different approaches she attempts, nothing works.   The door remains firmly locked.

 

As promised, the Sith’s manservant appears to bring her a tray of food she doesn’t want. Shan is far too upset to eat, and food seems like a trivial matter at a time like this.   But when the old man departs, Shan feels a bit guilty. She probably should have apologized for pulling her sword on him.   It’s not his fault that his master is a monster. But today Shan isn't in the mood to be her normal polite self.

 

She spends the next hour feeling angry. With herself and with the Sith. How could she have been so gullible?   And what had possessed her now—years into adulthood—to explore the temptations of the flesh?   Shan recognizes that she bears some blame, but mostly this is all Snoke’s fault. He seduced her, hurt her and kidnapped her, and now for some unknown reason he is attempting to force her into some sham of a marriage. And who cares about the Sith tradition--that means nothing to a Jedi. Shan is not, nor will she ever be, Snoke’s wife. She’s certain of that fact . . . until she isn’t.

 

Because Shan spends the next hour feeling hopeless.   Shan still can’t even detect Snoke’s power.   He seems to be a complete blank in the Force, his imprint that of a non-Force sensitive being. Shan is fearful of his Dark power that she does not understand and cannot combat.   Never before has she seen the Force used to freeze someone in place. Or to lock a door. If she cannot beat him with a saber and she cannot outmaneuver him with the Force, how will it ever be possible to escape this Sith?   A nagging voice in her head tells her that she won’t be able to escape.   That she is completely at the mercy of this man. Worst case is she ends up dead. Best case is she ends up Snoke’s secret prisoner wife. Or maybe, Shan fears, she has those scenarios reversed.

 

And that’s what triggers Shan to spend the next hour feeling sorry for herself.   Life as she knows it is over.   She’s going to spend the rest of her life as this man’s captive sex slave. Every day will be like the last, and her mind will atrophy and her heart will grow cold from isolation and loneliness. Now Shan will never get to finish the thesis she has been working on. She will never get to poke around in the holochron vault. She will never get to take that Coruscant professor posting.   Shan lists in her mind all the things she would have liked to have done with her life. Admittedly, her goals have always been somewhat modest. But still, it’s a fairly long list of regrets.  

 

It’s annoying to find that Snoke is right and she ends up crying it out. For hours. At some point in the afternoon, Shan is exhausted and she falls asleep. When she wakes, she takes the longest shower of her life, scrubbing the Sith off of her body over and over again.

 

Resigned now to her dinner date with her captor, she raids his closet. There, Shan discovers that everything Snoke owns that is not a traditional banker’s robe is black. How typical, she scowls. More of his Sith posturing. Judging by the size of his wardrobe, the man is a clotheshorse. She rifles through racks of stately, expensive garments in soft leathers and heavy velvets. Cowls, capes, long tunics and robes. Truly, the man dresses like a prince. None of this will work for Shan, so she keeps looking until she finds casual clothes and undergarments.   Swallowing her pride, she chooses a few items and stalks back to the mirror.

 

It’s almost comical how awkwardly his clothes fit on her frame. They are at once too large and too small. The black t-shirt is too big in the shoulders, arms and waist but pulls across her generous chest and the flare of her hips. His too-long pants are rolled up to her ankles with the too-wide waistband low slung about her hips. Still, the pants are painted on across her wide bottom and thick upper thighs.  Looking at them, Shan worries that when she sits, the pants just might split.   If so, it will be just the latest in the series of indignities foisted on her by the Sith.  Shan sighs.

 

She has never worn anything other than a Jedi tunic her entire life. And she has never worn any color other than shades of tan and brown. Shan is staring blankly at her reflection in the mirror when she hears a knock at the door. It is the manservant again—she thinks his name is Milo—and he has arrived to escort her to dinner.

 

Shan takes a deep breath and quiets her mind with the Force. Keep your dignity, she reminds herself. The Sith can take anything from Shan but her dignity. Then she summons her courage and follows.

Shan gets her first look at what lies beyond the locked door to the Sith’s bedroom. Snoke’s apartment is a sprawling penthouse that looks out over Harnaidan's many spired skyline. Its rooms are flooded with fading sunlight from ubiquitous floor to ceiling windows.   The light is in striking contrast to the dark decor, for the place is uniformly furnished in handsome, deep hued fabrics.   Sprinkled throughout are antiques and artwork for, as she recalls, Snoke does love the past. The overall effect is Old Money, and lots of it.  

If the prior Mrs. Snoke had any influence over the apartment’s decor, it doesn't show.   The Sith’s lair is a masculine place through and through.   But somehow that seems fitting.   Snoke seems to be a man who inevitably dominates and gets exactly what he wants.

She follows Milo around a corner and they come upon Snoke. He’s speaking with a balding, somewhat faded looking human male of middle years. The human is more distinguished looking than handsome. Like Snoke, he is richly dressed.  

The conversation ceases as she and Milo arrive.

Snoke smiles pleasantly at her. “Ah, here she is now. Come, my dear,” he beckons her forward. Then bows slightly as is his custom.  

 

The Muun takes in her appearance at a glance. No doubt noting her telltale puffy and bloodshot eyes. Snoke’s gaze lingers where her borrowed clothing clings at her bust and hips, and he smiles broadly. “I think I liked you better wearing just my robe,” Snoke tells her, ignoring that they have an audience.

 

Shan’s cheeks flame, but she says nothing.   She keeps her expression composed. She’s not going to let Snoke get under her skin this time. And though she is thoroughly intimidated by the Sith, she’s doing her best to hide it.

 

The Sith’s companion has beady, sharp eyes that assess her with interest.   And undisguised annoyance. His gaze lingers on her bare feet, which only heightens her embarrassment. Shan makes her own covert inspection. This human looks familiar, she realizes.   Like he is someone famous Shan should recognize.  

 

Snoke makes the introductions. “Shan, I present Sheev Palpatine, the Senator from your homeworld of Naboo.”

 

She gulps. Now she knows why this man looks familiar.  She’s seen him on the holonet. And once or twice he visited the temple on Naboo, a rare honor for a non-Jedi.

 

“Senator, meet Lady Shan.”

 

Senator Palpatine raises an eyebrow ever so slightly in Snoke’s direction at this honorific. Snoke shoots him a glare. Then the Senator bows low in her direction. A little too low.   The gesture is almost mocking.

 

Snoke frowns but makes no comment. He produces her lightsaber from his robes and turns it over in his hands. “It is a good sword, Shan. Fine workmanship to be proud of.”

 

Shan is staring at her saber, longing for it, when Snoke hands it off to the Senator. Who incredibly starts inspecting it too.  

 

“She is Jedi?” The Senator speaks this to Snoke as if Shan were not standing there right next to him. “How . . . extraordinary.”  

 

Again, Shan flushes to the roots of her hair, shamed by the Senator’s tone of disdain.   Of course, Senator Palpatine, friend and admirer to the Order, would be shocked to meet a female Jedi on such intimate terms with Snoke. She's barefoot in his house wearing his clothes after all.   And Snoke had made that obnoxious remark about her wearing his robe. Surely, the Senator is drawing the obvious conclusion.

 

Snoke shoots his companion a pointed look. “You are a worldly man, Senator. I know we can rely on your discretion.” And now Shan realizes that there is no point in appealing to the Jedi-loving Senator for help.   The Senator is either under Snoke’s influence or desires to curry Snoke’s favor. There is much more going on here than meets the eye, her intuition tells her.

 

Irritated to be the unwilling subject of this conversation, Shan snatches her saber back with the Force. It moves but a few inches in her direction from Palpatine’s grasp before flying into Snoke's waiting hand. Again, she is defeated by his power.

 

If the Senator finds this use of the Force by Snoke to be surprising, he doesn't let on.  And for his part, Snoke acts like nothing has occurred. Yes, something is definitely afoot.

 

“She is the one that is gone missing then?” Palpatine asks as if he is connecting the dots of a larger puzzle. And yet again, the Senator speaks of Shan as if she were not present.

 

“Yes,” her captor confirms.   Then Snoke turns back to her. “The good Senator wields much influence, Shan. He is helping your Jedi friends investigate your disappearance two days ago on Naboo. In the course of which, the Jedi have helpfully provided information about your background.   We now know who your birth family is, Shan.”

 

Shan blinks at this reveal. The Order never permits its members to learn their parentage. Contact with family members is strictly forbidden, for even familial attachments are proscribed. Senator Palpatine must be even more influential than Shan had previously thought in order for him to be entrusted with this sort of information.

 

Snoke looks very satisfied. He favors Palpatine with a regal nod. “Accept my gratitude, Senator, for this very useful information. And now, my wife and I have things to discuss. We shall meet again tomorrow, Senator.”  

 

“Wife?” the Senator raises an eyebrow. Shan can’t tell whether Palpatine disapproves that a Jedi has married or whether he disapproves that the marriage is to Snoke. Either way, the Senator is not pleased by this news and doesn’t bother to hide it.

 

“Yes, wife,” Snoke announces firmly in a tone that invites no argument.

 

Standing there, Shan says nothing. She’s lost in the undercurrents between these two men. Uncertain as to their relationship but very certain that neither man is to be trusted. And suspecting very strongly that Senator Palpatine is not the friend to the Jedi who he purports to be.

 

“Now, my dear,” Snoke steps forward to claim her hand. “Our dinner awaits and I am famished. Senator,” he dismisses his guest, “Milo will see you out.”


	8. Chapter 8

_Just a reminder that this story is very AU and will deviate from events and the timeline of the EU backstory for Darth Plagueis. Please suspend your belief for the inconsistent details and other continuity wackiness. Don’t let it bother you. It’s fanfic, so it’s supposed to be fun._

 

The dining room is surprisingly small and intimate. And set for two. Snoke holds her chair to seat her at his right then takes up position at the head of the table.   As always, he is in charge. Shan is arranging her napkin in her lap when an anonymous retainer she’s never seen before darts in to pour the wine and remove the covers from their plates. Snoke dismisses him and they are alone.

“Who are you?” Shan demands straight off. She could care less about dinner. She wants answers. “Please tell me the truth.”

He smiles at her directness. “The public knows me as Hego Damask II, the Chairman of the InterGalactic Banking Clan.   I am the most powerful moneyman in the galaxy.” He hooks an arm over his chair, utterly at ease in sharp contrast to her nervousness. Snoke adds, “By most measures, I am also the richest man in the galaxy.”

Shan digests this information slowly. So Snoke truly is a banker. He is THE banker to the galaxy. A Sith is the head of the IGBC. Shan knows next to nothing of business, but she knows enough to understand that this man has incredible influence over galactic commerce. Probably politics too since the IGBC is essentially the central bank for the Republic, loaning funds to finance world governments from the Core to the Rim.   The IGBC sets interest rates, establishes currency exchange ratios, runs capital markets and who knows what else. Shan knows she is too ignorant to understand the true magnitude of the power of this man’s position. But she knows enough to be simultaneously impressed and appalled.

“Who are you really?” Shan wants to know.

“I am Darth Plagueis the Wise, Dark Lord of the Sith.” He looks her in the eye and says this with true pride. And Shan realizes that Snoke was never the Sith-loving banker she had met. Instead, he is the money-loving Sith who sits before her now. Looking smug.

“And who is Snoke?” she ventures to ask.

This question makes him smile.   “Snoke is the nickname my mother gave me as a child. But only those closest to me know that.” The Sith sits back and takes a drink of wine. “I have lived many years, Shan, and I have gone by different names and titles. Before I was Hego Damask, I was Caar Damask. In time, no doubt, I will be called something new. But who am I really? I am the little boy called Snoke who grew up to be a Sith.”

“How is this possible?” she whispers. The Sith and their empire are a footnote to history. The relic of a grand ancient regime long past. Their only modern reference is as a bogeyman to scare little children. “The Sith have been gone a thousand years. The Dark Side lost to the Light centuries before you and I were even born.”

He smirks at her summary of the conventional wisdom. “That is what we want the Jedi to think. But the Sith are still here. These days we are much fewer in number, but even that is by design. We Sith will always be here in some form or another.”

Snoke puts down the fork in his hand and levels Shan a meaningful look. “Truly, it is the height of hubris for the Jedi to believe that the Sith have disappeared and that the Light has triumphed. The Force defaults to balance. Never forget that, Shan, for it is the key to understanding the galaxy. And heed my words--there will always be Darkness. Just as there will always be war, poverty, suffering and despair. Just as there will always be anger, illicit lust and greed. Darkness is eternal and, in some fashion or another, we Sith shall endure.”

His words are compelling and they ring true in her ears. Shan swallows hard, suddenly wondering if everything she knows of the Force is wrong. Well, maybe not wrong. Just incomplete. Balance is not a concept the Jedi spent much time teaching outside of a few prophesies about the Chosen One that no one really believes. As a padawan, Shan had been taught to avoid Darkness at all costs. Co-existing with Darkness was not an option to be considered, let alone accepted as the norm.

Shan looks up and sees that Snoke is waiting for her to process his words.   Satisfied that he has her attention again, he continues. “These days, we Sith live our lives in the open, out in the world.” He favors her with that broad, slow smile of his.  She recognizes it now as devious where before she had thought it charming. “It is deliciously ironic, is it not? Our best kept secret is that we are undisguised.”

“That’s not true!” Shan is quick to object. “You disguised your Force imprint when I met you. And you are disguising it now,” she accuses bitterly.

“Yes, it is the first lesson of being a Sith. How to hide in the open.   I sat across from your Master Yoda and Master Sifo Diyas just last month. It was most gratifying.”

He looks at Shan for a long, measuring moment. “Feel my power,” he invites. Then he blinks.

Shan gasps aloud.

Suddenly, Snoke’s eyes are that same feral yellow she remembers from the temple. He’s looking at her now as if she were his prey. Like he knows that the kill is assured and he’s taking his time while he circles her. Because there is pleasure in the hunt.

Shan abruptly stands to her feet, poised to flee. She is afraid, deathly afraid.

For the truly frightening aspect of Snoke is not his appearance, it is his feel in the Force. The businessman who had projected a run of the mill ordinary imprint now reveals his Dark power. And it is awesome in scope. The sheer magnitude of the projection of his mind into the Force leaves Shan gaping in dismay. The reach of Snoke’s mind seems to fill the room and to reach deeply into her own mind. As if knowing her innermost thoughts and fears is effortless for him. As if all that Shan is were laid bare before him for a lazy perusal.

She grips the back of her chair and staggers slightly. It is hard to withstand the mental onslaught that is this Sith.

For, oh! the feel of his power. It’s a combination of extremes. Like a chill so cold that it burns the skin. Like a heat so hot that it numbs the senses. It’s a whisper so loud you can hear it across a room. It’s the soft caress that leaves behind a bruise. This is the furthest thing from the zen calm of Master Yoda’s quiet discipline. Snoke’s mind is a roiling, boiling mix of competing passions. It’s all seven deadly sins rolled into one, focused and amplified ten-fold.

His Darkness is overwhelming. And, Gods help her, it beckons to her.

_Take a peek. Dip your toe in. Live a little._ Images of their tryst in the ritual chamber flash up to her mind. Once again, she trails her fingers down the line of runes tattooed on his bare chest. Her right hand twitches involuntarily now as she recalls the hard muscled feel of him. _You know you want this. Come on, try it. Just a taste won’t hurt._ Now Shan feels the phantom sensation of his lips on her neck, leisurely dropping wet, open mouthed kisses on the way down to bite her nipple. It isn’t real, Shan knows, but she shudders all the same. _Aren’t you curious? No one will know. It’s our secret._ And now the memories of him thrusting into her. The pleasure of his flesh so newfound and so satisfying. Shan wishes it would never end. _Do not deny yourself. Feel this passion. Give in to desire._ She’s reliving the ultimate moment now. The Force flaring to blind her mind’s eye as her body convulses around him deep inside. It is a revelation of sorts, this magical pleasure. Addicting after just one time.

And then it’s gone. The power evaporates from her mind and the memories fade and she gazes upon a man with dark eyes once again. It’s like nothing ever happened. Except she’s standing white-knuckled behind her chair, gripping it tightly, drenched in sweat and panting with sticky wetness dripping down the inside of her thighs.  

“Do sit down, my dear,” he invites her with a wave of his hand.  

Bewildered, Shan complies. She isn’t sure what else to do.

“What’s the second lesson of being a Sith?” she asks shakily.

“How to kill.” That slow smile of his spreads across his handsome features again. “Would you like me to show you that as well?”

“No!” she quickly objects.

“Really?” He feigns surprise and raises an eyebrow. “You were quite prepared to kill me just this morning.   And do not pretend otherwise. You were full of righteous bloodlust.” He grins like a mischievous schoolboy. “I knew you would be fun.”

“I may still kill you,” Shan grumbles.

“Would you like another chance?” He reaches into his robe and produces her lightsaber. Then lays it on the table next to her plate. “Go ahead,” he offers. “Take your weapon. Strike me down with all of your hatred.” Snoke leans closer to drawl suggestively, “Show me some Darkness, pretty Jedi.”

Shan stares at her saber. In her heart she knows that another duel will not end in victory for her.   And if she wants to get out of this alive, she’s better off not crossing swords with the Sith again. So she resists. Looking down and away she mutters, “I can’t believe that I was foolish enough to trust you.”

His brow furrows at this. He looks . . . troubled. “I have never lied to you, Shan. Not once. And I never shall. Sith do not lie. We do not need to. For few people recognize the truth when they hear it.”

“It wasn’t an outright lie,” Shan concedes. Her tone is hostile. “But you omitted quite a bit of the truth of yourself, Snoke.”

He sits back to take another deep drink of wine. “If I had shared who I am, would you ever have spent time in my company? Would you ever have been my friend?”

“Or course not!”

His point is made. “Then, now you know why I did not share it all with you on such short acquaintance. But I would have shared it with you eventually. I want you to know me, Shan. All of me.”

“Why are you doing this?” Shan eyes him suspiciously. “What do you want from me?”

“I want your loyalty and your companionship.”  He makes it sound so benign. Inviting. Even honorable. But Shan knows better.

“I won’t be your apprentice,” she warns him, fixing Snoke with a hard look.

He dismisses this. “I already have an apprentice. He is satisfactory. I do not require another. What I require is a wife.”

Shan looks down and bites her lip. She doesn’t want to talk about this topic.

He cocks his head. “Does that surprise you? We Sith are not Jedi. We do not fear attachment. And we do so enjoy possession.   A man in my position really ought to have a beautiful and accomplished wife at his side.   The public likes that sort of thing.”  

“I will not always lead the Banking Clan. The IGBC is but a means to an end.  In a few years, my apprentice and I will be Co-Chancellors of the Republic. So I will need a First Lady.   My apprentice cannot be trusted to find a suitable consort. The man has deplorable taste in women.”

“You’re going to take over the Republic?” This gets her attention and Shan looks up. The very thought is frightening and yet ridiculous at the same time. The galaxy is a representational democracy. Two men can’t take over a democracy of trillions all by themselves. Can they?

“Yes, of course,” Snoke assures her. “The Sith will command the Republic. For as you read on my temple wall, now and forever the Sith shall rule the galaxy.”

He’s completely serious, Shan realizes.  Maybe Snoke is just insane, she thinks.

“I require a spouse for my political career. A woman of admirable virtue and approachable charm. Intelligent and well spoken. Before we met, I had already begun mulling over which highborn Muun daughter to court. It would have been an arranged political alliance to some glossy well-connected goddess, no doubt. But then,” Snoke looks her over with a look of supreme satisfaction, “the Force intervened to show me the error of my ways.”

Snoke is relishing telling this tale, she sees. He leans forward in his chair as he relives their first meeting.

“You do not yet appreciate, my dear, how much I control. So you cannot know my excitement at discovering you without any prior design. For one random afternoon, I am interrupted at meditation in my temple by an intruder.   When I investigate, I find you. And the glow of your Force imprint blazes brighter than your sword in the darkness. And then the lights come on and you are breathtaking in your beauty. A Muun, like me. Standing there in your homely Jedi rags unaware of where you are and who I am.” His dark eyes are flashing at her now. “You were like something out of a Sith prophecy of old.   The curious virgin who appears seeking knowledge and ripe for seduction.”

“But it gets better--you show me your intelligence, your wit, your charm. And yet none of those qualities outshine your wholesomeness. You are so trusting. So innocent.   So eager to please.   Girlish as a grown woman but only in the best of ways.   Don not change a thing, Shan. You are utterly beguiling as your authentic self.”   His voice drops to a near whisper now, and he’s staring deeply into her eyes. “You were almost too good to be true, Shan, and I could not resist you. I was so . . . taken by you. Stupidly, I had assumed that I wanted some socialite sophisticate. But instead, I would fall hard for the Jedi girl next door.”

Snoke takes another drink of wine and recovers himself. The moment is gone and the self-assured Sith is back. And now he’s creepy. “Since I was a boy apprentice, it has been a fantasy of mine to bed a woman on the ritual table. But you were no ordinary woman. You were a gorgeous Jedi opening her legs to me on the altar of Darkness. I have been a man for many years now, but you were my teenaged wish fulfilled.”

Shan doesn’t want to hear this. He’s making her uncomfortable, and she wishes he would stop. But Snoke keeps going. He’s enjoying himself.

“When I unwrapped your body in the moonlight, your curves might have been sculpted by artist. Forgive the vulgarity, my dear, but you have the best looking tits in the galaxy. I would have married you for your figure alone.” Snoke is leering at her across the table. He probably thinks this is praise but Shan isn’t exactly flattered.

“I will never forget the feel of your power exploding in the moment.   I have had many women in my time, but never before have I bedded a Jedi. Forgive the comparison, Shan, but you are the ultimate experience.”

She feels herself blush scarlet. It’s bad enough that they did what they did. But Shan can’t bear to hear him talk about it. It is crass of him to remind Shan of her shame.

He pauses and takes another bite of food, watching her. His voice softens now and his words are more temperate. “I could not relinquish you back to the Jedi. I could simply could not. I would have spent the rest of my life pining for you. So I slashed your hand, put you to sleep and carried you off for my wife.”

Her wounded left hand is resting on the table and he reaches for it, but Shan quickly snatches it away. Snoke is undeterred.

“As a Jedi, you are the closest woman I will ever find to an equal partner. And you have saved me from yet another empty marriage of convenience.   Whether you realize it or not, Shan, we have much in common. And so much potential together. Your Light compliments my Darkness. We will be a matching pair in our dissonance.”

Finished, he settles back in his chair now. He’s waiting for her to respond.

But Shan does not know what to make of his bizarre, offensive but also strangely heartfelt speech. Her mouth is open to say something, but she is at a loss for words. So she just gapes at him. She sees mostly the fearsome Sith before her, but hears some of the likeable banker she had first met. Who is this man, she wonders?  Was any part of the Snoke she called friend actually true?

Perhaps he sees her dismay because he tries to reassure her. “My intentions have always been honorable towards you. You are mine now and I always take care of my own. For true loyalty always works both ways.”

Loyalty? Shan is loyal to the Jedi Order. Never will she be the loyal wife to a Sith lord.   Surely he knows that this relationship is impossible. Shan tries to reason with him. “You are a famous, wealthy man. You can have any woman you want for a wife. Go find a willing one. You have no need to kidnap me.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “I can have any woman I want. Even you, Shan. I will have no woman but you.”

“But—“

“I admit this is a bit sudden,” Snoke overrides her. “But it was necessary under the circumstances. You are Jedi, I am Sith. That precludes a traditional courtship. And much as I relish the thought of marching past the Coruscant Temple guards to stun you with the Force and carry you off in my arms, we both know that would not happen.   So this is the best solution. This is the only way for us to be together.”

“You had no right!” The unapologetic audacity of this man floors her.

“Dear Shan, Sith dare anything. Even stealing a Jedi.”

“You don’t get to steal me!”

His dark eyes narrow as he warns her, “I am a Sith Master and I can take whatever I want. You should remember that.”

“And I am a Jedi. We do not marry!” Shan is well and truly angry now. And she’s more than a little tired of hearing what this Sith wants. What about what she wants?

“Shan, you have left the Jedi Order. Accept that.”

“They will look for me. I can’t just disappear!

“Yes, the Jedi will look for you,” he concedes calmly. “And tomorrow they will find you. Or what they think is you. Some unfortunate Muun girl of the streets about your height and build will be found not far from your former home dressed in your Jedi rags and viciously beaten so as to be unrecognizable.”  

“W-what??”

“Yes,” Snoke practically purrs this. “As of tomorrow, you are dead, Shan.”

She swallows hard, understanding for the first time the true evil of this Sith. Some poor girl has been murdered for his scheme.

Snoke continues with nonchalance, as if he were speaking of something commonplace like the weather. “It will be a shocking crime for the sedate Naboo. And it will galvanize popular support for my friend Senator Palpatine's new crime bill. The Senator is known to be a friend to the Jedi, and he will not stand for this brutal treatment of a Jedi girl.”  

Snoke sounds thoroughly satisfied as he reveals the full extent of his manipulations. “The crime bill will fund many admirable programs and make long overdue revisions to current law. The bill will enhance Senator Palpatine’s reputation as a pragmatic reformer and will increase his stature in the Senate. And, best of all, buried deep within the crime bill text is authorization for an economic development project on Kamino. A long-term project that in time will create an army to defend the Republic in case of war.”

Shan doesn’t care about crime bills and armies. She’s focused on Snoke’s ruse to fake her death. “Jedi don't get beaten to death by normal thugs,” she informs him.

“No, they would defend themselves with their lightsaber. But you, my dear, are known to rarely carry yours.”

He’s right. “There are other ways of defense with the Force,” she reminds him.

“Yes, but recall how lackluster your skills are thought to be.  And surely they have only grown rusty from disuse over the years.” Shan frowns, seeing how effectively Snoke has used the information she shared against her.  “So you see, Shan the Muun Jedi is dead and soon will be forgotten.   No one will ever know who you truly are, my dear.”

“But I do not want this! I will not be your wife!”

Snoke is unimpressed by her objections. “Our marriage is an offer you cannot refuse, Shan. Now that you know who I am, I cannot let you go. You would run right back to the Jedi and tell them everything.   It is possible that they might even believe you.”

“You are Sith Lord! I will not be your wife!”

“This is your life now, Madame Damask. I am your future.”  His dark eyes narrow and he slants her an inviting look. “One day, I might even be your forever, Lady Plagueis.” Softly now he promises, “I could give you love everlasting, my dear.”

Shan looks away. Feeling helpless and trapped. And foolish and guilty and oh so confused.

“I will treat you well, Shan. You may have anything your heart desires. In return, I expect your fidelity and your loyalty.” Snoke peers at her from over the rim of his wineglass. “In time, you will come to appreciate the life I am giving you. A great many women would wish to be in your place tonight.” He places his glass on the table and catches her eye. “We could make each other happy, Shan.”

She seriously doubts that.

Snoke resumes eating. But Shan just sits there looking at her hands in her lap. Silence hangs heavy in the air between them. Feeling his eyes on her, Shan finally looks up to see Snoke frowning at her untouched plate.

“Don’t starve yourself,” he tells her. “I have never cared for skinny women.”

Shan eyes the food with distaste. “No, thank you. I’m not hungry.”   Then impulsively she grabs her saber still lying on the table and flees the room.

She’s out the door and sprinting down the hallway, lost in the rambling apartment. Somewhere there is an exit. She takes one wrong turn but soon she finds her way to the door. Shan slams at the control panel. Nothing happens. So she slams it again. Nothing.

“It will not open.”

The old manservant Milo appears out of nowhere, causing Shan to startle.

“When the Master is at home, the door is always kept locked with the Force,” Milo tells her. “The Master takes security very seriously.   From time to time, there have been attempts on his life.”

So she’s stuck here, Shan surmises. Which is probably why Snoke didn’t bother to chase her.   He knew there was no risk of her escaping.   The Sith is probably laughing at her as he finishes his dinner. Shan clenches her fists, only then realizing that she’s still holding her sword. Impulsively, she ignites it.

“Don’t, my lady.” Milo steps forward. “Even your saber can’t cut through the door.”

She doubts that. Lightsabers cut through almost everything. Shan raises her blade.

“Don’t,” Milo warns again. “My lady, he’s a Sith. Jedi were among the obvious intruders to prepare for.”

Ignoring the servant, Shan swings for the door, then leaps back as it repels her sword like a magnetic field. The blade never even comes close the door. She frowns, extinguishing the sword.   Milo had spoken the truth.

“I just want to go home,” she sighs, defeated. Shan tries to ignore the memory of Snoke telling her earlier that this is her home now.

“Come,” the servant tells her. “I will show you to your room.”

Reluctantly, she follows him back to Snoke’s bedchamber. Shan hesitates on the threshold, unwilling to return to this room that feels like a prison. To his room.   To his bed. She stalls until Milo clears his throat and looks at her expectantly.

Then Shan dutifully marches in.

The door slides closed behind her and she doesn’t bother checking to see if it is locked. It doesn’t matter. Shan leaves the lights off, drops her saber on the bedside table and wanders to the windows. Staring out at the Muunilinst cityscape lit up for the evening, she struggles to find the Force and to calm her fears.  

Shan is not used to conflict.   There are no heated arguments in the Archives. Disputes are rare and the interaction is collegial. So she feels completely unprepared to tangle with the ruthless Sith. Shan’s natural instinct is to soothe away differences, often to ignore them before they can ripen into disagreement, and sometimes just to give in and let someone have their way. She is not a fighter by nature. But now circumstances are forcing her to become one.

He has killed a woman in order to keep her.

That knowledge weighs heavily on her mind. Along with guilt. For had Shan not encouraged his attentions, none of this would ever have happened. And that woman might still be alive. Shan’s foolishness has ruined her own life and cost a stranger’s theirs.

In vain, she reaches again to the Force, but her mind is abuzz and she can’t think clearly. Shan is increasingly frustrated that the calm she so desperately needs is eluding her. Leaning forward to rest her forehead on the window, Shan closes her eyes and pounds her fist once hard on the glass.  

And that’s how Snoke finds her when he enters. She hears the door, of course, and the heavy footsteps. But she doesn’t turn. Listens as he heads to the closet. Hears the clatter of a shoe hitting the floor. Perhaps he’s hanging up his princely robes. Whatever. She’s doing her best to ignore him. And hoping that he will ignore her.

But, of course, he doesn’t. Shan jumps when finally she feels his touch.   He’s close behind her and his large hands are splayed wide on her bottom.

“Don’t touch me!” she rasps. Especially there.

But his hands roam freely. His trousers hang low on her hips and he’s dipping a hand inside. No doubt discovering that she has nothing on underneath.

“Don’t touch me!” Shan warns again. She jerks away but he only steps closer. His body is flush with hers now and his hands travel forward and up.

“It’s rather late for that objection.” His chin hovers just over her shoulder and he speaks softly into her ear. He’s reaching around her and up under her borrowed t-shirt.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” Shan intercepts his hands as they cup her breasts.

“I don’t need your permission.”

“Yes, you do!” Shan informs him in no uncertain terms. Yanking his hands from her busom, she whirls around to face him. They are eye to eye now and she’s backed firmly against the window.

Snoke stares back at her a long moment. His expression unfathomable.

“You’ve been drinking,” she mutters. She can smell it on his breath.

“Yes, I like my wine. But I am far from drunk.”

He raises a hand to her cheek but she shies away.   Frowning, he rests one hand on the window on either side of her head, pinning her in place. And then he starts speaking. Slowly.

“Do you know that with a wave of my hand, I could bring you under my power? I could have you willingly do things that would make a Lower Level Coruscant whore blush with shame. Or I could drag you down right here where you stand to violate you. I could do that night after night, Shan, until you craved the slightest tender touch from me.” She squeezes her eyes shut now as if to block him out. But still he keeps talking.

“Yes . . . there are so many ways to degrade a woman.   Over the years, I’ve seen quite a few from my friends the Hutts. But I enjoy your dignity, Shan. And your innocence suits your Light. I want you for the girl I found in the temple. The friendly girl who liked learning and who liked me.”

“So I will allow you more time to get used to this arrangement. But get used to it, Shan. For neither of us would like the alternative. I can be patient for things worth waiting for. But I will not be patient forever.”

Snoke leans very close now to whisper in her ear. “I will be between your thighs again soon. And you will like it just as much as last time. You will scream out my name as the master of Darkness and your Light will shine out in the Force.   It will be lovely, Shan, just lovely. I look forward to it.”

With that, he pushes off the wall and turns to stalk towards the far side of the bed.

Shan stands rooted to the spot, trembling.

Snoke is wearing only his black t-shirt and trousers now, and he strips down further still. She averts her eyes at the sight of that rippled chest with the dark line of rune tattoos. Snoke had told her it was a charm to protect his sword arm. He had been telling the truth. Everything he had told her in the temple was probably technically the truth. And stupid as she was, Shan had not recognized it. Which is why she is here now snared in this bizarre trap by a devilishly handsome Muun Sith lord.

He calls to her as he slips beneath the sheets. “Come to bed, wife. You are perfectly safe here. I will not hurt you.”

It's not getting hurt that worries her, 

“I will not bother you. Lay down. Sleep,” he orders, sounding exasperated.


	9. Chapter 9

Shan sleeps facing the windows, her fully clothed body poised on the very edge of the bed to place her as far as possible from him. So when dawn breaks the next morning, the sun streams hot and bright over her face to wake her.

Shan listens for a moment to the even, rhythmic sound of Snoke’s breathing.   She rolls over to see his face relaxed and eyes closed. His features are handsome, as always, and almost noble in bearing. He looks like a man you want to believe in, like a man you could depend on, like a man you might admire. But he is none of these things, for he is a Sith. Shan stares a long moment in sad fascination for what might have been. Missing the man she thought she knew. And wondering who this man who thinks himself her husband truly is.

Quietly, she creeps from the bed and tiptoes to stand before the windows that look out on the Muunilinst capital city. She is studying the skyline when abruptly her physical vision fades and her mental vision overtakes. She feels the sudden, strong rush of Force buffet her mind. Instinctively, she surrenders to its power. And suddenly Shan is falling, falling as the building she stands in appears to crumble from beneath her feet. She’s flailing helplessly and only half aware as strong arms reach for her.

_The droids are rough, cheap looking models that have the look of mass production focused on quantity rather than quality. But they are lethal, all the same. And overwhelming in their numbers. The city is crawling with them._

_Amid the blaster bolts and bombs, the tanks and the troopers, there are lightsabers. Jedi priests-turned-generals plot strategy and claim it is the will of the Force. For the keepers of the peace now lead armies into war. This is what the Republic has sunk to._

“Shan! Come out of it!   Shan!”

_Panicked crowds await too few transports. Otherwise good people are willing to trample children and elderly for a chance to escape.   For in the face of fear, gallantry dissipates, social norms fade and self-preservation becomes paramount. Ruthlessness wins the day, both on the battlefield and in the civilian retreat._

_The wealthy and the lucky will move on as refugees, but most others are caught in the middle. For millions are kept tethered to their crumbling lives in this ruined city by family, by poverty and by duty.   These are the empty-eyed souls who witness the city fall not once but twice. Taken and then retaken again._

 “Wake up! Wake up!”

_This Muun world is broken. And all around it, the galaxy is cracked and poised to split. For a house divided against itself cannot stand._

_In the end, there are no spoils to be had. Nothing of value left for the victors to claim. All is death and destruction, despair and loss.  And in its wake, an empire of Darkness reigns supreme._

“Shan!”

She hears the voice as if from far away. She is in someone’s arms, her head pressed firmly to a man’s bare chest. Anchoring her body while her mind remains stubbornly dissolved into the Force. Lost in the frightening reality of a war that is to come.

“Shan!”

The man is shaking her now, calling her back to the present from the future’s cloying grip. It is a burden to know these truths, and not a blessing. But this is something she alone understands. For few Jedi see the future with the accuracy that Shan does.

“What did you see?”

“S-Snoke??” Her voice is muffled into his chest. And she is confused as her mind returns to the present. It takes a few seconds before Shan understands that she is held tightly in Snoke’s arms.   She struggles a bit.   But he only holds her closer.

“I thought you were asleep,” she mumbles, saying the first thing that comes to mind.

“I don’t sleep. I meditate at night,” he answers curtly. “Now tell me what you saw.”

“War. This city is destroyed by war.   M-millions will die. Twice this city is a battleground.”

“What else?” he demands. “Tell me.”

“The generals are Jedi.” She lifts her face to squint up at him in confusion. “But that’s wrong—Jedi are not soldiers. They do not lead armies.”

“Who is fighting the Jedi?”

“The R-republic? Yes, the Republic.”

“The Jedi are fighting the Republic,” Snoke echoes, sounding both surprised and oddly pleased.

 “The Jedi lead an army of the Republic against another army of the Republic.” Shan speaks haltingly as she sorts through all that she has seen. “It’s a . . . civil war,” she realizes suddenly. The very thought leaves her cold and trembling.   And her words keep rushing out as realization dawns. “Snoke, there is no winner. Both sides lose. And both sides are parts of the Republic. In the end--” Shan stops herself, too horrified to say the words.

“In the end, what? What happens?”

Shan knows what happens. And so she recoils from Snoke, pushing him away and stumbling blindly a few steps until he catches her up again in his arms. Holding her close once more. “Do not be afraid,” he soothes.  “Tell me what happens. Share it with me, Shan.”

Share it with him? Yes, Shan needs to unburden herself of this unwanted knowledge. Her voice is a hoarse whisper of shocked disbelief.

“The Republic falls.”

Three simple words cannot possibly convey the enormity of this event. Cannot illustrate the bloodshed, the heartache and the loss that both precede it and flow from it. This is a cataclysm, a turning point, a Gotterdammerung of myth. And it is a monumental shift in the Force. A thousand years of democracy and progress will lie in ruins. For fallen, fallen is Babylon. Crushed not from without, but crumbled from within.

And Shan has seen it all in the Force.

“The Republic will fall and the Sith will rule the galaxy.” She doesn’t know the details, she just knows the ending. And it is certain.

“The Sith will rule the galaxy.” He repeats her words.

Still encircled in his arms, Shan senses rather than sees the slow, satisfied smile creep across his features. Of course, Snoke would be pleased. The man who murders a woman to fake her death probably wouldn’t blink an eye at the death of millions in pursuit of his ultimate goal.

And, oh gods! Shan doesn’t want to believe this! So silently, she starts reminding herself of the advice she has heard since she was young. That the future is always in motion. That this is but one path events could take. That visions are extremes that appear as a warning to take action. For years, Shan has been lectured not to dwell on her visions. To ignore them because foresight tends to confuse and mislead. This is Jedi catechism and she was raised on it.

But she has long known that it is wrong. Her visions always come true.

And the Jedi who wagged fingers at her visions are the same Jedi who had taught her that there were no Sith.  What else were they wrong about?   It’s a nagging doubt and she pushes it away.

“Shan, you are remarkable.” Snoke drops a kiss on her brow. Then he explains. “For over a thousand years, the Sith have clouded the Jedi’s vision in the Force to obscure our designs.   We are the phantom menace too fleeting and too indistinct to be detected in the Force. That is why you have been taught to distrust your visions. Because for almost all others, the Sith confuse and mislead.” He regards her now with new respect. “But not for you, Shan. We cannot confuse your mind. You see the whole truth. And that is remarkable.”

Shan pulls back from him as his words sink in. “You believe me?” The Jedi had never believed her.   Always, her master and others had relegated her visions to the realm of unreliable hunches. Ignoring that Shan saw what others did not.   That Shan saw things that came true. Yes, they were mostly little commonplace matters, but still. It had been frustrating. Stifling really, and soon Shan learned to keep her visions to herself. For the only thing lonelier than being the only one to know the truth is to know the truth but not be believed.

Snoke had said it himself last night at dinner: few people recognize the truth when they hear it.

But Darth Plagueis the Wise does. It’s written all over his face.

“The Jedi were fools to discourage you from embracing your foresight. But I am not surprised. They did not appreciate you.   Not your work or your power.”

“I’m scared,” Shan blurts out.  The brutal images of war are still foremost in her mind. They are terrifying. “I'm so scared.”

The Sith smiles down at her patiently. “There is no reason to fear. You are on the winning team now.”

A few minutes later, Shan stands at the refresher vanity staring at the assortment of women’s toiletries that Milo has left for her. Snoke wanders over fresh from his shower. He’s naked except for a towel that encircles his waist and Shan is trying hard not to notice his impressive physique. Snoke drops a datapad on the counter in front of her. “It’s official,” is all he says before he disappears into the closet. Shan picks up the datapad and begins to read.

_Jedi Woman Found Dead on Naboo_

_Local Authorities on Naboo announced today that they have located the body of a missing Jedi researcher. The Jedi, an adult female of the Muun species, was reported missing several days ago from her home at the local Naboo Temple.   Authorities are treating the death as a homicide. Unconfirmed reports say that the woman was likely beaten and strangled before her body was partially burned. It is not clear how or why the Jedi woman came to be viciously attacked, and authorities say the investigation is ongoing._

_The_ _Jedi Order today released a statement expressing sadness at the loss of their colleague and calling the slain woman a widely admired and much sought after academic. Colleagues at the Naboo Temple are remembering the victim as helpful and unassuming, and more at home in the library than with a lightsaber.   This is the latest in a string of shocking murders on Naboo and the first that anyone can recall of a Jedi._

“They didn't even say my name.”   Shan is not sure why this bothers her, but it does. In death, she is simply the 'Jedi woman.' Despite her lifetime of service to the Order, Shan’s identity is anonymous and unremarkable.   Yes, in the end, Shan remains the nobody she has always been.   The lousy padawan pegged early on for the Archives.

She rereads the article. ‘Helpful and unassuming.’ Those are nice words. True words. But deflating all the same. She sounds very unimportant.

Snoke appears to at her side. He’s mostly dressed now. “I see that the Jedi are happy to proclaim your accomplishments that they so easily denied you.” Yes, she had noticed that too. Shan looks up from the datapad and he catches her eyes in the mirror.   “Omitting your name from that report is helpful. The fewer connections between your past and your future, the better.   We do not need to change your name, but if you wish to do so, now is the opportune time.”

Change her name? Shan turns to Snoke, surprised by this thought.

He shrugs. “Names are a powerful way of establishing identity. This is something the Sith have long known. But I am quite partial to your given name, Shan. And I would prefer that you kept it.”

Shan just nods. She has stopped dwelling on herself and now focuses on what this article truly means. Shan is reeling from the independent confirmation that a woman had indeed been murdered so that she might assume the identity of Madame Damask.

“Is that how the woman died?” She asks this in a small voice. “Was she beaten and strangled?” Once again, Shan feels the crushing guilt from having encouraged Snoke’s attentions that unwittingly had led to this.

“I have no idea, Shan,” he tells her. “And I don't care.”


	10. Chapter 10

The rest of the day is like one of those shows on the holonet where they surprise some poor unsuspecting frump with a makeover. A team of dressers and designer types all stand around and objectively debate the subject's merits and flaws as if she were not standing right there listening to every word.   And the woman in question is reluctant and self-conscious and clueless about these things. She keeps fretting and politely the professionals ignore her. Everyone thinks she is being needlessly stubborn.

Well today, that woman is Shan.

After Snoke departed, Milo had knocked on the door to find her still staring blankly at the news report of her fictitious death. The old servant had handed Shan a cup of steaming hot caf and told her he had just the thing to cheer her up. That seemed impossible, but Shan went along with him anyway. Things could hardly get worse, could they?

Yes, they could.

Half an hour later, Shan is standing pinned into a blue evening gown like some improbable Jedi Cinderella. The dress has a narrow halter neckline that is cut down below her cleavage so she can’t dare slouch. Her arms are exposed but thankfully her back is covered. Shan has prevailed upon the seamstress to pin closed the thigh high slit to below the knee.   And she won the battle to resist narrowing the already clingy skirt.   But still she is self-conscious.

No one seems to recognize her discomfort other than Milo.   Because only he knows her past.

Shan has never even worn a nightgown this revealing. One sudden move and something scandalous is bound to pop out.   But the team of fashion types with their Coruscanti accents and sleek all-black clothes shrug and reassure her that this dress is quite modest. Shan is not convinced.

With your figure and stature, it is best to be simple and elegant, she is told. Clean lines with a defined waist and always décolleté to bring attention upwards to your lovely face. And color. Vibrant color, my lady.   Nothing fussy or elaborate. Not to worry, Madame, we will not make you into an overdressed Naboo queen.  

“What do you wear under this?” Shan leans over to whisper to a female assistant. If someone produces a girdle, that’s it, she is out of here.

“Nothing my lady.   But if you wish, we can sew in some support.”

“Yes, please,” Shan says weakly.   She's imaging her breasts jiggling with every step.   Snoke would probably like that, she realizes ruefully.

“What is this all for, Milo?”   Surely she isn't supposed to slink around the apartment in an evening gown.   But Milo is busy conferring with one of the fashion types and Shan never gets a straight answer.

“Is this really necessary?” she complains. Again, she is ignored.

The longer she stands there, the more successful these people are at bullying her into submission. There are simply too many of them to contradict all at once. After an hour, Shan has had one too many datapad ‘look books’ thrust in her face and now they have all run together.   Finally, she just turns to the lead dresser and tells him to choose.

Then an assistant approaches to hold up handbags to Shan for her opinion. “That one.”   Shan decides on the largest. It should fit her lightsaber, she judges with a critical eye.   “Oh, yes,” the lead dresser approves. “Large accessories always to match your scale, my lady. Nothing delicate. Large, simple and bold. Even for your jewels.”

Her jewels??

“Do you have anything more casual?” Shan ventures timidly.

“Yes, Madame. We are getting to that.”

Just then Snoke saunters in. He stands there a moment taking in the scene. Then he approaches to drawl softly for her ear alone, "I can see Milo has figured out that I'm a breast man."

Shan blinks then scowls. Now she hates this dress even more. But he just laughs under his breath.

He turns to the roomful of people. “Leave us, please. Give Madame Damask and I a moment alone.”

Shan waits for everyone to retreat before advancing on Snoke. “I am not a doll for you to dress up,” she objects, waving a finger under his nose.   “I am not some empty-headed fashion plate.”

He merely smiles. “I know that. You know that. But no one else needs to know that.” He looks her up and down with appreciation. “I like this one. You are very glamorous in it.”

Glamorous? Her? The compliment flusters Shan. She instantly forgets what she was about to say.

“You need to look the part of my wife,” Snoke tells her easily. “And the wife of the richest man in the galaxy wears only the best. You cannot spend the rest of your days wearing my clothes, Shan.”

“But—“ she sputters, uncertain how to respond in the face of this logic.

“Think of it as a disguise. Your brethren will never recognize you out of your humble Jedi sackcloth. And you are much too beautiful to be garbed as a peasant.”

Shan frowns. A peasant? Really, that’s offensive.

“Appearances are deceiving. No one knows this better than the Sith.” He slants her a sly look. “People see what they want to see. What they expect to see. So we will give them just that. You will be the fashionable young wife to a powerful, wealthy man.” Snoke looks downright mischievous now. Gleeful about the hoax he is about to put over on the galaxy. “Shan, I intend to flaunt you out in the open, just like I do myself. If you force me to keep you here under lock and key, I shall. But where is the fun in that?”

He walks to the door and beckons over Milo for instructions. “Tell them to have something prepared for tomorrow. And make the other necessary arrangements. Tomorrow night, Madame Damask will accompany me to my events.”

Snoke shoots a roguish smile at her. “It is time to show you off, my dear.”  

Shan gulps.

Hours later, the fashion entourage has left and Shan warily sits down to dinner with Snoke. Milo appears out of nowhere to drop a handful of electronic cards on the dinner table beside her. “What’s this?” she asks.

“Travel documents, identification, credit card.” Next, he hands Shan a datapad with an open file. “Here is the bio that the PR group put together. You should commit it to memory, my lady.”

Intrigued, Shan looks closer. Then makes a face. “We met at a picnic for underprivileged children?”  Who’s going to believe that?

Snoke looks up from across the table. “It is true. From a certain point of view.”

Hardly. “Those were Jedi padawans,” Shan complains.

“Yes.” He nods solemnly. “Poor little things. Stolen from their parents at a tender age for a cult.”  

Shan shoot him a glare and he just chuckles.

Shan keeps reading the bio. Most of the rest of it is a careful mix of half-truths and outright lies. She’s an orphan who grew up on Naboo adopted by a human family. There is a list of her degrees and it’s correct, which makes Shan wonder who dug that information up. “I sit on the grant review board of the Damask Family Charitable Foundation?   You have a foundation?”

Snoke nods. “I do. Does it surprise you that I am a public-minded citizen? I donate significant sums to worthy causes.”

Shan thinks for a moment. She’s beginning to know this Sith well enough to understand that there are always layers of intent for his every action. So she addresses the elegant man sitting across from her with knowing eyes. “You mean you spread your largesse far and wide to collect favors.”

“Indeed,” he confirms, his dark eyes sparking at her with undisguised appreciation. “You catch on fast, sweet wife.”  

She ignores the endearment. “You really are a gangster Hutt at heart aren't you?”

“Yes, but I am completely respectable and a lot better looking,” Snoke tells her in utter seriousness.   Really, the man can be insufferably arrogant, she thinks.

“Power is all that matters, Shan. And my credits buy a lot of power through my charity. But if you prefer, you may think of it as buying a lot of good works. Feeding the hungry, clothing the poor. That sort of thing.”

Shan puts the datapad with her new life story down on the table. She cocks her head and frowns at him. “So you really intend to do this? To dress me up and trot me out to stand beside you in public as your pretend wife?”

Snoke looks her in the eye. “There is nothing pretend about our marriage.”

She ignores this. “Someone will recognize me.” She hopes.

He dismisses this notion. “We are lightyears away from Naboo. No one has ever heard of the dead Jedi girl here and, if they have, they do not know her name or what she looks like.” Snoke sits back and twirls his wineglass. “Starting tomorrow, we will begin to create a public profile for you that is believable and true to your nature. And you, Shan, will act the part.”

“And if I don’t?” Shan challenges.

His eyes narrow and his speech cadence slows. His flat tone will tolerate no argument. “This is an offer that you cannot refuse, remember?   You will act appropriately and speak discretely. From now on, you are Madame Damask, the lovely young woman in that bio.” Snoke gives her a pointed look. “And you are not now, nor have you ever been, a Jedi. That means that you will never use the Force in public. Do you understand?”

Shan stares mulishly at him in silence.   Thinking of the poor dead Muun girl found on Naboo. Shan herself could be the next Muun girl found dead somewhere. But then again maybe she’s already as good as dead, since Shan’s whole life has been taken from her and a new one foisted upon her.

Snoke considers her for a moment. Then uses a new tactic. “You should view this as an opportunity.   I have emancipated you from the Jedi.   This is your chance to choose your own life.”

Shan finds this reasoning to be outrageous. She leans forward to glare at him. “Do not speak to me of choices! You have forced me into a fake marriage and you are keeping me a prisoner.” She fumes. The gall of this man to act like he is doing her some sort of favor.

Snoke is unimpressed by her hot words. He continues as if her outburst had never occurred. “I will not unreasonably restrict you. Once you accept your role, once you accept me, I will permit you much freedom.” He holds her gaze a long moment before telling her, “I want you for yourself, Shan.   For the friendly girl in the temple. Not for a prisoner.”

“You're keeping me from going home,” she points out the fallacy of his words.

But he disagrees. “This is your home now.” Snoke takes another drink of wine and smiles indulgently at her. “Would you like that professor post? In time, you may have it.”

Now, he’s just being cruel, she thinks. “It was offered to a dead woman. Everything that I have accomplished, all the work that I have published, all the respect and reputation that I have, belong to a dead woman. Credentials are everything in academia. And now I have none.   No reputable institution would ever hire me.”

He shrugs. “Much of that can be remedied.”

“How?”

He is vague. “I have my ways.   And for the right contribution, a university will be surprisingly accommodating. Credits have a way of making people . . . shall we say . . . flexible? I will simply endow a position for you somewhere.”

Shan resists the urge to roll her eyes. Of course, this banker thinks he can buy everything. That his credits can solve every problem. “You can’t buy me a professor post. It doesn't work that way.”

“Yes, Shan, it does.”

His condescension grates on her and she looks away.    

“Look at me,” he commands and she does. “I can give you the life that the Jedi denied you. A life without their limitations and false dogma. You may have the career that they disdained. You may have the freedom to make choices. You may spend your time as you wish.   I will not limit your luxuries and indulgences. I will never limit how you use the Force. All I ask in return is your loyalty and your companionship.”  

For the briefest of moments, Shan considers the offer. Snoke makes it sound so easy. Like he is offering her everything and asking so little in return. But Shan knows better.   She won’t sell her soul to this devil. “You are a killer!” she accuses.  

Snoke looks almost offended by this. “I am Sith. There is a difference. We are not butchers, Shan, we are architects of the future. My violence always has a purpose.”

“Yes, I saw your purpose this morning, remember? I saw this city fall and the Republic crumble. I saw the Dark Side unleashed in some—“   She’s searching for the right words, “--some massive contagion of death! That’s your goal isn’t it? To be the ultimate power in the universe, wielding the power of life and death over all of us.”

He muses a moment before answering. “Yes and no,” he decides. “Yes, the Republic will fall and I will be the ultimate power in the universe. But no, death is not my aim. It is merely a means to an end. For as I have told you, my violence always has a purpose.” He leans forward in his chair. Snoke’s dark eyes are glittering now and she can tell that he’s enjoying telling her this.   He’s speaking in that slow, grave way of his that has the effect of making her hang on his every word. This Sith is so . . . compelling.

“No, Shan, the greatest of all powers is not to end life, but to create it. And to prolong it indefinitely. That is the power that has long been my goal.”

“What?” Did he just say what she thought he said?

That slow, devious smile of his appears as he nods. “Immortality is my goal. Yes,” he reacts to the frank look of shock on her face. “The Dark Side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities that some consider to be unnatural. Including immortality. It shall be the ultimate achievement in the Force: to hold all the power, and to hold it forever.   I shall be as a god among men.”

Her eyes are wide. Who is this man who wants the impossible? Who dares the unnatural? “You are a monster,” she realizes.

“Perhaps.   I do so enjoy being a Sith.”   He settles back in his chair.  “Now, consider my words wisely, my dear. And consider all that I am offering you. If you insist on making me lock you up, I will do so. But we shall both regret it.”

A discrete knock interrupts them. Milo darts into the room to whisper in Snoke’s ear. Snoke nods and replies, “Indeed. Show him to my office. I will be there directly.”

The Sith rises as Milo departs. Crossing the room, he steps beside Shan’s chair.   Gently he reaches his graceful Muun fingers to raise her chin and their eyes meet. “I will be so disappointed if you make me lock you up.” Then he bends to kiss her softly on the lips. “Goodnight, Shan. I shall see you tomorrow.”

Shan is glad when he’s gone. She is still angry and frustrated as she crawls into bed. Perhaps that’s why the dreams start. But for whatever reason, they keep coming each night as she closes her eyes.

Shan dreams of Snoke’s kiss, only now it is not a goodnight kiss. Now the kiss is just the beginning. The details are rearranged each time but the outcome is the same. They end up naked in each other's arms and Shan wantonly screams out ‘Lord Plagueis!’ as she loses herself to pleasure.

Strangely enough, in her dreams she and Snoke are the inverse of real life. For always she, not he, dominates.   Shan is the one who pulls him closer, who reaches to unclasp his robes, who boldly unbuttons and unbuckles. Shan is the aggressor leading him to bed with a firm hand, pushing him down before she straddles him, telling him in graphic detail what she wants. Sex combines with power, power combines with sex. She is in control and it’s a heady stew of passions.

In life she is the sheltered Jedi girl who couldn't begin to put proper words to the acts she brazenly demands in dreams. None of this makes sense. But later that night while lost in sleep, Shan holds her lightsaber over Snoke’s head until he obediently kneels to suckle between her legs.   Then her naked body is draped forward over the Chancellor's podium in the Senate Arena while Snoke thrusts hard into her from behind.   He may rule the galaxy now, but she rules him.

In the morning, Shan wakes drenched in sweat and arousal. She is embarrassed and bewildered.

But secretly, some small part of her wants more.


	11. Chapter 11

The next day, Shan busies herself reading everything she can find on the holonet about Hego Damask, Damask Holdings and the IGBC. There is a lot to read.

Shan is a researcher by training, so she has learned to sift through large amounts of data. After an hour, it becomes clear that all the publications, disclosure reports and press coverage say the same thing over and over. How Hego Damask has business acumen even his competitors praise and admire.  How he combines the best of the legendary Muun business prowess with a commitment to charity and public service. Each time, it's differently packaged and rearranged, but substantively the same. And it's very superficial.   Hego Damask turns out to be a very public figure who is barely explained.  

That is fitting for a man with many identities. Too much information might make it hard to keep all the lies straight, she surmises. He is the galaxy's biggest con man and no one seems to notice. Because he appears to be completely above board, the respectable business man with impeccable manners who gives millions to charity.   No one would suspect his alter ego, Shan realizes, and perhaps they wouldn't believe it if they knew. Because she worries that Snoke is right and few people recognize the truth when they hear it.

By late afternoon, Milo is getting nervous. He’s trying hard not to show it.   But Shan has spent much of her life on the sidelines watching others, so she notices these things. The old retainer is as dignified and courteous as ever, but he hovers and his eyes keep looking at Shan like she’s a ticking bomb. He keeps referring to tonight as her ‘debut.’   And now he’s starting to make Shan nervous too.   More and more, she understands the stakes are high for her outing this evening.

And they are higher than even Milo knows. For if she says the wrong thing or does the wrong thing, Shan is likely to end up locked away forever. If she doesn’t end up dead.

It’s just a party, she tells herself. Shan has been to plenty of open house receptions at the Jedi temple and she did her share of keggers with her university friends years ago. So how hard can this be?  

Very hard, she realizes, once one of the dressers from yesterday arrives with a crew in tow. Tonight apparently requires a team effort. Soon someone has painted her fingernails and her toenails. Someone else paints her face. They are zipping her into the blue evening gown she tried on yesterday when Milo appears with a velvet box. “For you, my lady.”

The box contains a pair of earrings. They are very large and very bold.   A cascade of clear dangling stones that sparkle and catch the light from every angle.

“How exquisite!” the Coruscant dresser lady exclaims as she pounces. She reaches for an earring and clips it to Shan’s ear. “Oh, yes! Perfect! Just perfect!” She stands back to admire her handiwork.

Shan doesn’t know if they are perfect, but they certainly are heavy. Never before has she worn any form of jewelry. It feels odd. She rises to look in the refresher mirror. And freezes.

She barely recognizes the woman staring back at her. It’s Shan, but it isn’t. The makeup reflects a light touch, as she had requested. But still, she looks transformed. All glowing grey skin and berry stained lips.   And the dress—yikes!   Shan had never seen it in a mirror yesterday, so she did not appreciate its effect. She considers it critically now, seeing how it is not the dress that is eye-catching, it is the dress on her figure. Shan is the same over exaggerated hourglass she has always been. And the simple dress, perfectly fitted, just fades away. All you see is Shan. And there’s a LOT of Shan and her contours to look at.

She blinks. And blushes. Even she has to admit that she looks kind of sexy. That’s not very Jedi.   It’s also not very Shan. Whoever this woman is looking back at her from the mirror, she’s definitely not a wallflower. Snoke is correct—no one will ever recognize this woman as Shan the Jedi researcher.

Milo and the dresser lady keep offering bits of advice at her. Don’t fidget. Stand tall with your head high and shoulders back. Follow the master’s lead in all things—Milo says this with a pointed look. And smile. Look like you are happy to be there.      

She practices walking in the pretty but completely impractical heeled sandals they have brought her. She’s supposed to ‘rough up the soles,’ whatever that means. And the Coruscant dresser lady keeps talking about good camera angles and cameras--who said anything about cameras?? They stuff the matching handbag she picked out yesterday with lipstick and tissues and when no one is looking, Shan stuffs something in too. Now there is a knock on the door and someone speaks to Milo and he turns to announce that it’s time to go.

Shan feels herself go pale beneath all the makeup. And suddenly, she is rooted to the spot. So Milo crosses the room and takes her hand and silently leads her to the door.

Good luck, he tells her. Shan nods nervously down at the slight old human. Then Milo leans in close and looks her in the eye. If you can charm him, then you can charm anyone, he tells her. Then he presses the door release and sends her down the hallway to her date with the Sith.

Snoke watches her in silence as she approaches. When she stops a few paces from him, he circles her slowly. His expression is inscrutable. Well, whatever, Shan thinks. At least Milo would be proud. She doesn’t fidget and she stands tall under his appraisal.

Milo had also said to smile. But Shan doesn’t smile.   She’s too nervous and Snoke is doing nothing to make her feel more comfortable.

After Snoke looks his fill, he finally breaks his silence. “How enticing you are,” he murmurs. He’s looking at her like he’s seeing her anew. Like he too barely recognizes the woman standing before him.

“Give me your left hand.” Shan complies and he flips it over to inspect her palm. She winces slightly as Snoke traces a finger down the red slash wound.  It’s still a bit sore. For some reason her Jedi healing techniques do not seem to work on this wound. “It will scar,” she observes, hoping he can hear some of the displeasure in her voice. The Sith had given her this mark, after all.   The least he could do would be to give her a bacta patch. But when she had asked for one, Milo had refused, citing his master’s orders.

“Yessss,” Snoke practically purrs this word with satisfaction. “It is tradition to let the marriage slash scar. The scar represents our bond, Shan.” Snoke opens his own left hand with a graceful flourish of fingers to display his matching healing wound. Then he clasps her marked hand with his own.  “Like our alliance, the scar remains for life. Sith marriage is forever.”

Forever. That’s a scary concept for Shan. He’s basically telling her one of them has to die in order for her to be free.

The Sith looks into her eyes. His voice is slow and intimate. “Circumstances rushed you into my life. I know that, Shan. Darkness should always be a choice, and it is not to be hurried. In time, I know you will choose me as I have chosen you.  But until then, we will keep up appearances.”

He releases her hand and produces a small box from beneath his robes. From the box he pulls a wedding ring to slip onto the ring finger of her left hand. The stone is red and it’s huge.

Shan sucks in a breath. Then she closes her eyes. She feels the stone resonating in the Force. This is no ruby. It’s a red kyber crystal.

“It’s perfect,” she breathes. This crystal is perfect. In every way. How it feels in her hand, how it feels in her mind. Just perfect. The butterflies in her stomach are gone now. Her anxiety about this evening evaporates and Shan feels centered and at peace. Before she can stop herself, she looks up at Snoke and smiles broadly. “Thank you.”

“No ordinary ring will do for my secret Jedi wife,” Snoke tells her. Then winks. “Come, my dear,” he ushers her out the door. “Let us introduce you to the galaxy.”

Shan takes her first steps outside of the apartment that has been her prison. It exits to a private landing platform. A medium-sized planetary shuttle is waiting. It’s a flashy chromium plated model that looks very expensive. The shuttle is flanked by six uniformed, visibly armed security guards all standing at attention. They wear the green and black of the IGBC.

Shan raises an eyebrow. “Do you have your own army too?” she whispers.

“Something like that,” he admits. “We take security very seriously, Shan. Our depositors depend on us to keep their credits safe.”

“But why do you travel with these men?” she wants to know. Her voice is a furtive whisper so as not to be overheard. Shan is still trying to figure out who knows what about Snoke. “You are a Sith--you don't exactly need to be protected.”

“It is what people expect. Plus, I cannot whip out my lightsaber or freeze blaster bolts in mid-air in public without revealing myself.”

“You can freeze blaster bolts??” Shan turns to him, amazed.

He smiles at her reaction. “Yes, I can. You could too. It is not a hard skill to master.”

“That’s okay, I'm armed,” she tells him, patting her elegant blue clutch handbag.

“You're going to knock someone over the head with your handbag?” He is amused.

“No.” Shan opens up her evening bag to grant him a quick peek at her saber nestled within.

Snoke throws his head back to shout with laughter. “Beautiful and deadly. Oh, Madame Damask you are perfect. Just perfect.  But,” he slants her a glance.  "Keep it in your purse." Then he hands her into the waiting shuttle and they are off.

“Where are we going?” Shan asks, suddenly realizing that she has no idea. They are whizzing fast through the foreign city she has only glimpsed from windows.

“The Muun Museum of Ancient Art. They are opening their new exhibit tonight and all of the old banking families have helped to underwrite the event. Tonight will be a who’s who of Muun society. And there will be quite a few off-world contributors from the Trade Federation and the Commerce Guild.”

That makes sense, Shan thinks. Banking and business must go hand in hand. No doubt they all support each other’s pet causes.

“We will make an entrance, greet our hosts and I will introduce you around. Then I will hand you off for a bit. I have work to do tonight.”

Work at a party? Something tells Shan that Snoke is not approving a loan or whatever it is he pretends to do in finance. “What is your work exactly?” she asks. “Your real work,” she feels compelled to clarify.

He looks at her steadily. “I am trying to start a war.”

Of course, war would be the work of a Sith. Instantly, Shan is taken back to her vision from yesterday morning. To the bloodshed and destruction. Why would anyone desire war, she wonders. So she asks.

“Why?”

“War is a catalyst for change, and change creates opportunity.”

“For money?” Is this about credits?”

“There is lot of money in war. We lend money to both sides to build up arms and tensions. Then we finance the war itself. And often we get to broker the winner by deciding which side to favor during the hostilities. When it is over, we lend the money to rebuild.” Snoke is callous about profiting from the misery of others and she recoils from him. He ignores it. “But I am not in this for the money, Shan. These days, I am far more interested in power than in money.”

“How do you start a war?” She probably shouldn’t be asking this, but there is something morbidly fascinating about this topic. And about this man.

He smiles at her interest. “There are several tried and true methods to create tensions and to destabilize governments. Assassination. Corruption exposed at the highest levels. Terrorism and unrest.   The key is to create anger and distrust among the parties. To shake the public’s faith in their leaders and their institutions.   To back a government into a corner with their own people demanding they to take action.”

She blinks at this ruthlessness. “And you’re going to arrange this tonight at a party?”

He smiles at her naiveté. “No, these things take time. But the right comment in the right ear always helps. People tend to perceive you as sincere when you meet outside a conference room. It is also easier to manipulate people in a social setting. They let their guard down, they are relaxed.” He flashes that slow, sly grin at her. “I am puppet master, Shan. All men are beholden to someone, even the elite at the highest levels who you will meet tonight. All except me. I am a Sith Master. I only answer to history.”

“You are trying to start the war I saw in my vision, aren’t you?” she accuses. “The civil war to bring down the Republic.”

“Yes,” Snoke confirms. He glances out the window. She follows his gaze to a large landing platform below with a crowd gathered. “We are here.”  

The shuttle descends quickly and they land.  Shan takes a deep breath. She’s smoothing her hands on her skirt as Snoke turns back to her. His smile is genuine and reassuring. “Let no one intimidate you tonight, Shan. You are Madame Damask, wife to the richest man in the galaxy and wife to the head of the IGBC.”

And Shan the Jedi, the almost professor at the best university in the galaxy, she adds silently to herself. Shan knows she is far more than just this man’s abducted pretend wife.

Snoke stands and offers her his hand. She’s on her feet now as he leads her to the exit. As the door opens, he turns to lift her hand to his lips in that formal, courtly manner of his.   Flashbulbs are popping to light up her vision and the crowd is noisy, but Shan is focused solely on Snoke. “You will be the most beautiful woman here tonight, my Shan. How proud I am to be your Sith.” He brushes her fingertips with his lips, then firmly grasps her hand in his and down the ramp they go. Into the social jungle.

“Hego, who's the girl?”

“Chairman, is that the new wife from the press release?”

“Hego! Over here please!”

“Kiss her, Hego. Give us a good shot.”

“What’s her name, Chairman? Tell us her name.”

“Lady, who are you wearing? Who made that dress?”

“Chairman, tell us your view on the Senate taxation proposals. What are your views about taxing the Free Trade Zone?”

The photographers and the press are aggressive. And there are a lot of them. She’s hoping Snoke will lead her past but he doesn’t.   He leads her to stand before the paparazzi and holds her steady, his hand at her back. _Smile._ She hears his voice in her head rather than in her ears and looks up to catch his eye.   And finally she smiles. And that’s when the flashbulbs pop in unison to nearly blind her.

“Give us a shot with just the wife, Hego. Step back, please sir.”

This he does not allow.  The longest five minutes of her life are over as Snoke sweeps her along and past the press at the party’s entrance.  

She does her best not to gape at the glittering party that envelopes them. There are several hundred people in attendance. All dressed to the nines and everyone seems to know each other.  All the animated conversations combine to make a loud buzz. The evening proceeds as Snoke had instructed. They greet the hosts and he introduces her to a lot of curious people. Shan smiles and says as little as possible.

Then Snoke beckons over a young man in an IGBC uniform. “Hill,” he commands his subordinate. “Take my lady through the exhibit.” Then he hands her off and strides across the room to greet someone.

“I’m San Hill, ma’am,” the IGBC man tells her. He looks about her age, but she’s not sure because Shan is bad with ages where Muuns are concerned.   He seems friendly enough. He’s handsome in a clean cut sort of way. “I work for the Chair--your . . . husband.”

Husband. The word sounds very odd to her ears.  

“Please call me Shan. Would you like to see the new exhibit?” she prompts, looking for something to say. And wanting very much to fulfill Snoke’s orders.  Shan is eager to please tonight. She’s no fool where Snoke is concerned.  If he locks her away, she will never escape from him.

“Sure,” her conscripted escort dutifully agrees and they begin walking towards the exhibit area. It’s quieter and much less crowded once they are inside. Apparently, none one in attendance has come to see the exhibit. The guests are all here to talk to one another.

The relative privacy must make Hill bold, for he turns to her in frank curiosity. “How did you bag Hego?” he asks bluntly. The question would be outright rude were it not spoken with a disarming boyish smile. After all the stilted ceremony of the reception line and the decorous formality of so many introductions, this young man’s casual candor is almost refreshing.

“We met at a picnic,” Shan dutifully parrots the bio that was apparently a press release in disguise.

“Aww don’t be coy,” he cajoles her. “Women throw themselves at the Chairman. But he’s never been much for the ladies. At least, not publicly.” A waiter approaches to offer them a drink and that saves Shan from commenting. She refuses the wine but accepts some water—Shan needs all her wits about her this evening. Hill also refuses the wine. Reluctantly. “I’m on duty,” he explains.

Hill looks her up and down, giving her an obvious once over. This is probably the tenth time someone has done this to her in the past half hour. Shan is expecting it by now and she doesn’t take offense. Besides, she likes his warm, golden colored eyes. “You are very tall,” Hill decides. “But I suppose that makes you a good match for the Chairman.”

Shan laughs. “Some of it is the shoes,” she explains sheepishly, sticking out one foot. In these heels, she’s taller than San Hill and clearly that rattles him or he wouldn’t have mentioned it.   He’s not the first man she’s met who is unmanned by a giant woman.  But this guy doesn’t seem to lack for confidence. Nor is he intimidated by having to escort the boss’ wife.

“So who are you?” Hill asks. “Tell me something about yourself.”

“I grew up on Naboo,” Shan tells him, sticking to the script.

“Yes, I know. I read your bio. Tell me something I don’t already know.”

Oh, could she ever. But Shan isn’t about to wander off script tonight. She hesitates and Hill makes assumptions.

“I get it, I get it,” he lifts a hand to forestall her. “Everything is on a need to know basis. I know how things work with the Chairman. I recognized his ways when I read that press release. He gave us just enough information to know something about you, but not enough to know much. That is classic Hego Damask.”

Shan latches on to this. “I guess you’ve figured me out,” she smiles easily at him.

“No, I haven’t, and that’s the point,” he responds knowingly.

“What do you do at the Bank?” Shan asks, hoping to change the topic. Men love to talk about themselves. She’s hoping Hill takes the bait.

He does. “I’m in Collections and Security,” he tells her. “We enforce the agreements and protect the assets. And,” he grins at Shan, “we know all the dirt on the customers.” San Hill gestures discretely behind him. “Look over there.” Shan follows his gaze to see her husband enter the exhibit deep in conversation with an aged Muun.  

“That’s old Mals Tonith the Chairman is talking to. A few years ago, we advanced Tonith’s son-in-law a big loan for a speculative deal and Tonith pledged his personal art collection as collateral. It was pricey stuff when it was appraised, but the Chairman thought it was ugly. Lots of portraits of dead Jedi. So when the son-in-law defaulted on the first payment and old Tonith refused to pay up, the Chairman had one of the Hutts feed the most valuable portrait to his pet rancor.   Old Tonith timely paid in full plus interest after that.”

Shan giggles. She can just picture Snoke doing that. And only she can fully appreciate why.

“Everyone knows not to cross Hego Damask,” Hill tells her, clearly admiring this ruthlessness. “But from time to time the Chairman has to remind someone.” He shrugs. “It was just business. And we’re still doing business with the Tonith Family.”

“Yes, I can see,” she observes.   “Does Tonith still have all his other Jedi portraits?”

“I have no idea,” Hill admits and she giggles again. Feeling eyes on her, Shan looks over and catches Snoke watching them.

Hill starts covertly pointing out other notables in the room as they emerge from the short exhibit space. “That’s Nute Gunray by the stairs. The Neimoidian over there in the green robes. Everyone says he’ll be the next Viceroy of the Trade Federation. And that’s Senator Passel Argente over there. He’ll probably be Magistrate of the Corporate Alliance someday.” They are back in the main party space now and Hill scans the room. “Looks like every up and comer in banking, trade and commerce is here tonight.”

"And that includes you too, right?” Shan teases him. This man’s naked ambition is very different from what she is used to as a Jedi. But it seems to fit perfectly for an employee of her Sith husband. And it seems to fit perfectly for this brash young man.

“Yes. I’ll run the IGBC eventually.”

“Does my husband know that?” Shan raises an eyebrow playfully at this boast.

“Not yet.” Hill grins.

“Tell me who else is here,” Shan urges him, hoping he will point out some more boldface names. It’s a safe topic and probably something she should learn. Not surprisingly, San Hill is happy to demonstrate his insider knowledge. He seems to have an amusing anecdote about most everyone in the room. Time passes quickly and soon enough Snoke appears to claim her hand and the evening is over.

Shan isn’t certain that she would declare it a success, but Snoke seems to be satisfied. He escorts her home and then disappears to do whatever it is a Sith does afterhours.

The next morning at breakfast, Snoke drops a datapad on the table beside her. Shan does a double take. It’s a holonet picture of them arriving at the party last evening. The picture captures Shan looking up at Snoke seeming to smile adoringly. Shan blinks and looks closer. The caption reads ‘Newlywed IGBC Chairman Hego Damask debuts striking wife.’

And oh Gods does she look fat. Shan frowns. She’s not used to seeing herself in photographs, nor is she used to wearing skimpy evening gowns. The fabric of her dark blue gown had caught the light and every curve on her bosom, waist and hip had been highlighted. She looks like an overripe fruit bursting out of an expensive dress.

Shan swipes on the datapad and keeps swiping. There are at least fifteen photographs of her and Snoke from last night on various media outlets. It’s not just a bad angle, she realizes, as she inspects the variety of candid shots. That’s really how she looks in that wretched dress. One picture had even caught Snoke kissing her hand at the top of the shuttle ramp. She’s in silhouette in that picture and yes there’s no denying it. She is entirely too fat.

Shan puts her fork down. That’s enough breakfast.

“You are perfect, Shan,” Snoke tells her, laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Don’t change a thing.”

She stares down at the datapad and gulps. Shan had no idea that she would merit press coverage, let alone this sort of widespread dissemination. Even Jedi read the fluff on the holonet. “Someone is going to recognize me,” she warns him.  

“No, they will not.”

It turns out he’s right. And that is simultaneously a great relief and deeply unsettling.

Hego Damask is something of a bon vivant in social circles, and she and Snoke are out at least four nights a week without fail. Milo acts as social secretary, briefing Shan beforehand on guest lists, seating charts and dress code. Snoke’s manservant plans each evening with military precision, and they party hop from reception to event dutifully making appearances.  

It gets her out of the apartment and out into the world   Some nights it is even fun. At the very least, it is interesting. One evening Shan amuses herself trying to read the minds of strangers. That earns her an odd look from across the room from Snoke and she stops, belatedly recalling his warning not to use the force in public. But come on, it’s not like she just Force-pushed the hostess across the room.

Shan quickly realizes that these social events are all business for Snoke.   As usual, the Sith’s focus in unerringly strategic.  He tells her of the complicated network of business and political connections they meet, divulging who heads which company and who sits on what board of directors. Because, but course, these evenings are all about power and influence.

And Snoke loves it.   The secret Sith relishes the social power that comes with his position. Even in informal settings, Chairman Damask is treated like a head of state. People stand in respect when he walks in a room and they bow first before shaking his hand in greeting. Snoke never deigns to acknowledge these formalities.   He strides through life expecting the deference that is lavishly showered upon him.  Such is the power and prestige of the richest man in the galaxy, the unofficial prince of galactic finance.

Snoke even has the elegant formal manners of a real prince. He rises whenever she enters a room and bows his greeting. He ushers her first through any door, and into and out of any elevator.   He hands her out of a transport so she can alight gracefully.   He conducts her through a crowd with a firm hand resting at her lower back.   It is simultaneously gallant and possessive. And those two qualities, she comes to realize, are typical of her husband.

At most large receptions, Snoke disappears for some period of time for his work of war and he hands her off to some flunkey. Often, it's San Hill, which is fine with her. San is amusing and fun. But sometimes it is a random thug in an IGBC uniform who is rather visibly armed. The message to the world is that Hego Damask wants to protect his wife. And he's the galaxy's banker-in-chief, so if he looks a bit over-obsessed with security that's not necessarily a bad thing.   The IGBC vaults protect its depositors' untold riches, after all. But the message to Shan is that she cannot be trusted to be left alone.  

Still, there are plenty of opportunities for Shan to make a run for it. She's got her lightsaber in her purse and she's got the Force. She could probably mind trick her way past the valet, nab someone's shuttle and get away to Muunilinst somewhere.   But then she'd have to get off world on her own.

Shan knows that she would have one chance to get away. And if she causes a public scandal in the process, she will very likely end up dead. If not in the escape attempt, then some time afterwards. She has heard enough stories from San Hill to know the dark underside of the IGBC. San has told her how they employ bounty hunters and other disreputable types for their dirty work when deals go bad. And she recalls how easy it had been for Snoke to fake her own death on Naboo. If he can do that, surely he can arrange for some freak accident to explain the sudden tragic demise of his estranged would-be wife.

No, Shan would have to make it off-world to a Jedi temple in order to be safe. And then, she'd be a prisoner at the temple, unable to leave due to the certain reprisal that her erstwhile husband would have lying in wait.

And would the Jedi even believe her? Could she actually succeed at preventing Snoke's war? Some days she is certain, but other days she is not so sure.   For she doesn’t know the details of his plots and armed hostilities don’t appear to be imminent. So what exactly would she warn the Jedi about?

Shan is cautious by nature and she probably tends to overthink things. But she doesn't want to do anything rash. She's a Jedi and she's supposed to be selfless and to think only of others. Preventing Snoke’s civil war ought to be her main concern. But Shan fails that standard. Shan has never been the hero type. Quite frankly, she doesn't want to end up dead or locked away herself.

So in public, Shan flows in Snoke’s wake. Serene and polite and completely decorative. Night after night is a blur of flash photographs, strange faces and him. Always in control, he conducts her in and out of each party with practiced ease. Snoke has the meet and greet down, moving from acquaintance to acquaintance in record time. The myriad of faces that he introduces her to all run together, and Shan remembers few of their names. But they all know hers.  

Now Shan is all over the holonet society pages. She learns not to look at the photographs. They only serve to make her more self-conscious.  

She’s trying gamely to look and act the part, but Shan is out of her element.   There are Jedi who move in these type circles on Coruscant, she knows. But they are seasoned veterans in the diplomatic corps or in the Senate liaison group. Never youngish researchers from the Archives.   All her life, Shan has been the friendly behind-the-scenes helper.   She is the one checking the data for the big annual address to the Senate or pulling the research for the treaty proposal. A bystander to the accomplishments and limelight of others, cataloging it all for posterity. But now, she’s the one in the middle of it all. Only not for her real self, but as Madame Hego Damask, the pretend wife to the secret Sith.  

For a woman whose prior life had been focused entirely on substantive matters, it is uncomfortable to be so . . . superfluous.

Rarely is she called upon to say much in these settings. It is strange for Shan to realize that people are trying to impress her and not the other way around.   And many of those who speak with her inevitably are angling for her husband's notice.  So Shan spouts a few lines about nothing of consequence and that satisfies everyone’s curiosity. She just has to meet expectations and people don’t look farther. Her job is to look pretty and to smile for the cameras.

San Hill was right--women throw themselves at Snoke. It’s blatantly done even as Shan stands next to him as his wife. Perhaps Shan should be offended, but mostly she is silently amused. The men are even worse than the women. In the ultra-competitive Muun world of business, Snoke is an A-list celebrity.   His peers seem to want to bask in the reflected glory of his success.

Watching all of this fawning attention night after night, Shan wonders sometimes if she is a bit of a game for Snoke. Whether it is some sort of challenge for him to seduce the Jedi. Shan is probably the only Muun woman in the galaxy who would be reluctant to marry Snoke. And she’s probably the only person in the galaxy who isn’t looking for something from him. She never sought his money, his position or his influence. She had simply liked the Sith obsessed handsome banker she had met completely by accident and wholly out of context.

It had been a brief acquaintance. Shan had planned to kiss him goodbye, move to Coruscant and move on with her life. Maybe that was what had triggered his actions—Shan gets the feeling that Snoke has never had anyone leave him. Ever. In a complete accident of fate, she has unknowingly been playing hard to get for a man who is much pursued.


	12. Chapter 12

Shan has lived around Jedi her whole life. She had grown up used to the mix of individual Force imprints that permeate a Jedi temple, used to knowing the colleagues who were in a room without looking. But since her abduction by Snoke, Shan’s daily world has become completely devoid of the Force. For Snoke betrays no trace in the Force and neither do the rooms full of people she meets out at night.

So when, after weeks of life on Muunilinst, Shan senses another Force user, the awareness is like a thunderclap in her mind. Her heart skips a beat and her senses sharpen. Her eyes furtively scan the room. This is a particularly crowded party, with several hundred in attendance.

And one of them is a Jedi.

Her mind is a mixture of excitement and dread. This is both an opportunity and a risk.  If she can feel the presence of the Jedi, then surely the Jedi can feel her. Shan knows that she has always left a strong imprint in the Force.   Far stronger than her actual powers reflect. She is, quite frankly, impossible to miss for a Force-user.

She and Snoke are in conversation with the Muun senator when it happens. Snoke's hand is at her back as usual. She feels his touch deepen. Is it to steady her or to assert control? Shan isn't sure. But there is no doubt that Snoke too senses the Jedi.

And, as luck would have it, not five minutes go by before the Jedi himself is standing before her. Led over to meet the Muun senator by a senior Trade Federation negotiator. This Jedi Master Dooku is a man of late middle years with sharp eyes and an elegant, aristocratic manner.   His name sounds vaguely familiar but Shan is certain that they have never met before. There are ten thousand Jedi in the galaxy, after all, and Shan did not mix with many in her behind-the-scenes role at the Archives.

By now, Shan has become much more confident on the social scene. With nothing else to do, she has taken to spending hours reading up on politics and finance on the holonet. She knows all the issues in depth and she recognizes all the players. And her small talk with strangers has become more polished and effortless. But now, as she stands before the Jedi, Shan lets her husband do the talking. She is no fool.

“It is always an honor to meet a Jedi Master.” Snoke is gracious and formal as usual. “And a rare honor on our world. May I present my wife Shan?”

“My lady.” The Jedi inclines his head and eyes her thoughtfully.

She just smiles.

“What brings you to Muunilinst?” the Muun senator asks.

“Jedi business.” Master Dooku is vague.  And still eyeing Shan.

Snoke inserts himself smoothly. “If I may, Master Jedi, let me introduce you to my good friend Mals Tonith. I know he would very much like to make your acquaintance. He is a great admirer of the Jedi.”

Snoke beckons over San Hill and another of the IGBC security detail that hangs on their perimeter. Then he deftly hands her off. "Hill, mind my lady while we chat up Tonith for a moment." Snoke looks her in the eye and holds her gaze. "Don't go far, my dear. We will be leaving soon." Then he turns to the security officer. "Get the shuttle. And take this with you." Snoke snatches her handbag to shove it to the IGBC thug who takes off for the landing platform.

Then Snoke is off across the room with Master Dooku in tow putting as much physical distance as possible between Shan and the Jedi. She watches them go thinking that there went her only chance at rescue. In the moment, Shan is not certain if she is relieved or disappointed.

“We don't see Jedi much on Muunilinst,” Hill remarks at her side.

“They were common on Naboo,” Shan says softly.   “There is a large temple on Naboo.”

“I’d like to see one fight,” Hill tells her. Because, of course, everyone always thinks that the Force is mostly about fighting and that Jedi are only about lightsabers. It’s why announcing that you’re a prosaic Jedi researcher is often met with disappointment. Hill looks over at her. “Ever seen a Jedi fight?”

“No,” she lies. She can’t take her eyes off Jedi Master Dooku across the room. She makes herself turn away.

“Neither have I. But I've heard their lightsabers cut through anything. I'd like to see one of those someday.”

“That Jedi Master was wearing his sword,” she says quietly, remembering the unusual curved hilt of his blade. A saber that customized is surely the mark of a master swordsman.

“I missed that,” Hill sounds disappointed. “Hey--what's in your purse that Hego wanted rid of?” Yes, that odd request had not escaped San Hill’s sharp eye.

Shan smiles blandly at him. "Oh, maybe a lightsaber."   Hill just laughs. She can tell that he’s about to ask again so she cuts him off. “I think I'd like a drink, San.”

He raises his eyebrows at this. Shan never drinks at parties. She considers herself ‘on duty’ during the evenings, just like him. “That Jedi has you rattled, doesn't he? Yeah . . . they are creepy like that.”

Shan says nothing. She heads across the room to the nearest bar and Hill has no choice but to follow. Soon, Shan is collecting a glass of champagne when she turns back to the party and nearly spills her drink all down the front of the Jedi Master.

“Oh, excuse me!” Shan is flustered at his sudden appearance. Is this coincidence? Is the Jedi here to get a drink or to see her?

She glances around and sees Snoke headed in her direction looking determined.

“Madame Damask,” the Jedi inclines his head and it’s clear that he is focused on her and not on a drink. “You have the Force,” he tells her and her heart again skips a beat. Shan is staring at him, weighing her options when the Jedi explains. “On your hand.  May I see?” Dooku reaches for her left hand to admire her wedding ring. Her hand is visibly trembling as he holds it.

Please, don’t let him turn over her hand, she thinks. Just because Shan didn’t recognize a Sith marriage scar doesn’t mean another Jedi won’t.

But instead Dooku reaches to touch the crystal, no doubt feeling its power. “This is no ordinary stone, my lady. It is a kyber crystal. These crystals resonate with the Force. They are very important to the Jedi.”

Shan nods. Awareness is dawning on her. Of course, the beautiful kyber crystal wedding ring has multiple uses. It's more than just an eye catching piece of jewelry to announce to the world that she is the wife of the richest man in the galaxy. More than just an inside joke that is a private nod to her secret Jedi status. It is also the perfect cover for her Force imprint.   Worn to fool any curious Jedi that it is the crystal projecting in the Force and not Shan. And since it is her wedding ring, there is never an excuse for her not to wear it in public. Once again, Snoke has deftly managed to achieve multiple aims in a single solution.

“You are frightened, Madame. See how your hand trembles. Even the Force tells me that you are uneasy.” Master Dooku has lined eyes that are more astute than kind. They narrow in on her now. She has intrigued him, Shan sees. And he’s not going to be easily put off. “Is something wrong?”

Now is her chance to reveal herself. It’s a rash move, but if Shan doesn’t at least try she will regret this missed opportunity forever. So, she opens her mouth and only gets one word out.

“Help m—“

Shan barely says this one word before she is frozen in place by the Sith's power.

“My lady?” Dooku asks with a frown. He is peering up at her.

But Shan can't answer, of course. She can’t even move. She’s trapped in the Force and staring beseechingly at this Master Dooku.   It feels like an eternity, but in reality it’s only a few brief seconds.   And then Snoke arrives to wrap an arm firmly around her waist as he releases his Force hold.  

Snoke is as smooth as ever in the moment. “There you are, my dear. The shuttle is waiting. You know how security does not like us to dawdle.” He nods at Dooku.  “If you will excuse us, Master Jedi. Good evening to you.”

One minute later, Snoke has dragged her out of the party. Two minutes later, he has her on the shuttle and they are away.

Shan sits stone faced and silent during the short trip back to the apartment. Snoke does not outwardly betray that anything is amiss.   She’s the sullen one as he dismisses the security detail and they depart the shuttle. They enter the apartment and, as usual, Milo awaits his master’s return. Snoke dismisses him curtly and the old retainer’s eyes widen slightly before he bows and withdraws.   But still, Snoke keeps his even demeanor. Patiently, he bides his time until they are behind the closed door of his bedroom. And then he turns on her.

With yellow Sith eyes. And his Dark power revealed.

Shan gasps aloud. Then she shudders involuntarily at the icy-hot chill of his mind, at the deafening quiet in her ears, and at the cloying pressure on her skin. This is the feel of Snoke’s overwhelming power. The Sith is just as intimidating as Shan remembers. Maybe more so, for this is no casual reveal to a curious onlooker.   This is Darkness, honed with anger and poised to strike.

Shan stumbles back.

Snoke walks forward.

His words sound slurred from barely restrained rage. “You will be loyal, wife. There is no alternative.”

Shan looks down and away.  Anywhere but those feral yellow eyes. She cannot meet his strange animal eyes.

That must anger him further because he raises both hands out to the side and streaks of blue lightning burst forth from his fingertips to streak harmlessly around the room.

Shan’s mouth falls open at this perversion of the Force.   She is speechless at this display of power.

“Yes, you wanted to see Force lightning, did you not?” Snoke snarls at her. He’s advancing forward now and instinctively she retreats again. But he’s fast and he’s not in heels, moving backwards and wearing a floor length evening gown. He grips her chin hard and forces her face toward his. “Look at me, Lady Plagueis. Behold my power for I am your Sith. You belong to me and you will be loyal.”

Shan gulps then nods.  Her instant capitulation takes some of the heat from his anger. He drops his hand and steps back. But still, his words are deliberate in their warning.

“Do not force me to discipline you the way I might my Apprentice. Neither of us would enjoy that.”

“That Jedi sought me out—“ Shan starts to explain. But he cuts her off with another crack of lighting.

“Had I let you, you would have told him everything,” Snoke accuses. “You would have betrayed me, wife.”

Snoke is right. Shan does not bother to dispute his words.

"There will be no help from the Jedi, Shan. They will never take you back. Not now that you have married a Sith. The taint is forever like our bond is forever. Master Yoda would take one look at your scarred palm and cast you out for the fallen woman you are.” These words are harsh, but they ring true in the Force.

“And then you would be out on your own for the first time ever. You are not prepared for the real world, Shan. A world in which you make all your own decisions and bear all your own responsibilities. Never once have you done that. All your life you have done as you have been told and been provided with everything you need. And now that everyone thinks you to be dead, you would need to reinvent yourself altogether. That is a big task for a woman with no family and no friends and only academic skills.”

Shan resents being portrayed as helpless. Yes, she doesn’t have any experience on her own but she is far more capable than Snoke is making her out to be. And she tells him so. “I could survive just fine without you!”  

“Yes, no doubt in some lowly existence. In some hovel somewhere. Such a comedown that would be. I am offering you so much more than that. I will give you anything your heart desires, Shan. I ask only two things in return: your loyalty and your companionship.” He looks her up and down. “I can be patient for your companionship. But I will not wait for your loyalty. You will be loyal.”  

“You are not offering me anything!” Shan shouts at him, shocking even herself with this vehemence. Normally, she’s not a screamer. Normally, she shies away from conflict. But this situation is anything but normal. She wonders whether Snoke has any idea how upsetting this sort of confrontation is to her.

“I’m not a fool, Snoke. You demand to control me and then in exchange, you will let me do what you want. That’s a lousy deal!”

“I am Sith!” he snaps back at her. “Control is the pathway to power. Control is what I do. Stop fighting it.” He eyes her in a way that almost looks rejected before reminding her, “There are plenty of women who would love to be Madame Damask.”

Yes, Shan knows this because she’s seen for herself all the aggressive women angling for his attention while purporting to hang on his every word. Why didn’t he kidnap and marry one of them? He could have found his equal in some highborn social Valkyrie who would be happy to be his puppet in exchange for shopping sprees to the couture houses on Coruscant.

“Snoke, you should have married one of those women. I am not the right person for you. For so many reasons, this marriage is a mistake. Just let me go,” she pleads. Shan is trembling as she begs. “I won’t tell anyone about you. I won’t go back to the Jedi. I’ll just disappear and it will be like it never happened. And you can move on and find some woman who will be what you want. Who can make you happy.”

He reaches to cup her cheek with a hand she just saw cast lightning. She flinches and Snoke frowns at this reaction. His face and his tone soften. “Those women don’t want me. They want what I can give them.” And just then, with him touching her with his Force imprint wide open, Shan sees again what she had seen a glimpse of in the Sith temple.

Loneliness.

The irony of his words seems lost on Snoke because only moments before he himself had been arguing for all the things he could give to Shan. Only they are things she doesn’t value. Things she has never had and never known to want.

He looks her in the eye. “That’s the point, Shan. You wanted me. Not what I could give you.”

“But you have taken everything from me,” she wails bitterly.

“I will give it all back and more, Shan. I promise.” He pulls her into his arms now and Shan does not resist. What’s the point in resisting? It will only provoke another display of his frightening power.

Now he is holding her close, her head on his shoulder. Promising her his own allegiance. “It works both ways. I will be loyal to you before all others. I will be faithful to you as you are faithful to me.   You are my lady and I will honor you.”

This is the Sith's style, she is learning. Snoke wields both the carrot and the stick.   First comes the threat and then comes the explanation of why her compliance makes perfect sense.   It is an insidious ploy. He will control her and then make her agree with it.  

She is trapped, Shan knows. She can’t go back to her old life and she doubts very seriously that Snoke would ever allow her to make a new life without him. And more and more, she’s beginning to realize how much Snoke is in her head. Somehow he is aware of what she is thinking enough to silence her with the Force from across the room. How could she ever plan an escape from a man who knows what she is thinking?

He is offering her everything but demanding everything from her as well. Loyalty and companionship sound so benign but they translate into Shan surrendering all to this Sith. So she feels hopelessly lost. Powerless. Silent tears begin to fall and he just holds her tighter. Her tormentor is offering her comfort now and this is so confusing.  Because it feels good to be in his arms nonetheless.

“When I can trust you, you will have more freedom,” he promises. But Shan knows she cannot trust this Sith.

Later that night, as always, Shan dreams of Snoke. This time it is dinner on a rare night that they stay in. He is lounging back in his chair, twirling his wineglass absently as he tells her of his latest plots. How he has entrapped another Senator with a greasy palm for corruption. How he has rigged the upcoming elections on Corellia on behalf of the Corporate Sector.   This will help him oppose the upcoming tax proposals that the Senate is considering. It is all designed to exploit the longstanding tensions between the Core Worlds and the Outer Rim.

Keep talking, this ultra confident dream version of Shan tells him as she rises from her chair and slips under the table.   With practiced ease, she unbuckles and unzips. Then she is up in his lap and her mouth is on him, enjoying his long groan of satisfaction. Enjoying being in control.

Shan can't get enough of the pulsing, hard feel of him as he leaps to life under her tongue. Tell me more, she commands. She wants to know his machinations. To hear him reveal his plans and speak of his power between gasps and moans.   And all the while she works him with her mouth and her hands. Shan resists when he tries to drag her up to straddle him in his chair. Not tonight. Tonight, she wants him to finish in her mouth. She wants to taste him. Because dream Shan is wicked like that.

Her mind shifts and now it is another man she pleasures. A younger man cocksure of himself with a winning smile and warm golden eyes.   He makes her laugh and tells her stories. It is San Hill in his IGBC black and green with his legs spread wide.   A random, delicious caprice of her unconscious mind for the only friend she has.

This new fantasy ends as soon as it begins. Shan feels more than sees the yellow Sith eyes on her.   Livid and strangely hurt. She hears his voice now. Cold and warning. You will be loyal, wife. There is no alternative. I have slain one unfaithful wife in my time. Do not tempt me to repeat the act.

And now Shan is completely awake, jerking her body to sit upright in a fight or flight moment of panicked fear. She blinks into the night. Snoke is beside her, his eyes closed and his breathing even. He is suspended in the peaceful sleep-like meditation he practices.

There is no danger. It was just a bad dream. No doubt brought on by the frightening scene from earlier. The ugly screaming match with Snoke had occupied Shan’s mind as she lay down to sleep.

She is wide awake now. And pensive. So Shan creeps from bed to stand at the window. Standing there in the filmy nightgown that had one day appeared in the closet along with the rest of her burgeoning wardrobe.

She startles as she feels Snoke's hands on her shoulders. She had not heard him get up. "Bad dream?" he asks softly.

"Yes." Shan does not elaborate.

"Come to bed," he tells her. "Get some rest." Then he tugs her back to the bed and this time he wraps his arms around her. At first, Shan is alarmed. But it seems all Snoke wants from her is this embrace. So she falls asleep that way. Her head resting on his chest and his arm wrapped around her waist in a parody of intimacy she does not feel. But she so desperately needs.

 In the morning, Snoke drops a datapad on the table beside her at breakfast. It is a candid picture snapped during their hasty exit from last night’s party and published on some trashy tabloid holonet site.   The photographer caught her looking away. Her face is forlorn, her eyes downcast, her body language unmistakable. At her side, Snoke looks tightlipped. The caption reads ‘Lovers’ quarrel? IGBC Chairman Hego Damask exits gala with wife.’

Everywhere she is watched, Shan realizes. By him and by the world. She has come a long way from the anonymous back office Jedi researcher.

Shan stares at the photograph but says nothing.

From across the table, Snoke stares at her but says nothing.

Neither of them mention Jedi Master Dooku again. And things go on as usual. Except San Hill is frequently absent from her security detail.


	13. Chapter 13

It's morning and, as usual, Snoke is nowhere to be seen. Shan is fresh from a shower, wrapped in a towel and standing in the closet. Women all over the galaxy have done the same thing: stared blankly at their wardrobe wondering what to wear. Only other women are not Jedi who have never had the task of choice where clothing is concerned.  

Packages from Coruscant keep arriving regularly and now, thanks to Milo and the team of Coruscant dressers, Shan is as almost as much a clotheshorse as Snoke is. But all that finery is for the public Madame Damask, the socialite wife of the banking magnate.   Shan doesn't want to bother with it during the day when she is bored and stuck in Snoke's penthouse for hours on end with nothing to do but surf the holonet.

But finding something simple is no small task given she mostly owns evening gowns. Even the daytime outfits she owns look appropriate for appearing at some fancy reception.   Shan sighs. She doesn’t own anything truly casual. In defiance, she stalks over to Snoke's side of the cavernous closet and swipes a black t-shirt and sleep pants. She is pulling them on when she notices an open door far back in the furthest reaches of the closet.

How had she never noticed this? Shan pokes her head through. It’s a stairway leading down.  Is this what Milo means when he refers to his master as being 'downstairs'?   Shan had just assumed that meant he was in the office tower below them since Snoke's apartment is atop his company's headquarters.   Intrigued, she creeps down the stairs.   She’s partway down when she hears Snoke’s voice.

She freezes mid step. She’s busted.

“I was wondering when you would venture down here.” Snoke stands at the bottom on the stairs peering up at her. He’s naked to the waist holding his lightsaber hilt in one hand and a towel in the other. He’s dripping with sweat and smirking up at her.

Shan doesn’t see his smile. All she sees is his rippling naked chest and muscled arms fresh from what appears to be saber practice. She blinks. And blushes. Truly, the man has an amazing physique. Not that she’s looking or anything.

He chuckles. “Well, come down. You are the girl who marched into my temple, after all.   Curiosity would appear to be your character trait.”

More like her character flaw or maybe even her tragic flaw, Shan thinks silently.   But she finishes descending the stairs all the same.

“Welcome to the Sith's lair,” he says with a sweeping hand gesture and more than a little melodrama.

Shan can’t help herself. She laughs. “Lair? Oh, that's so you.” How Snoke relishes the creepy trappings of the Dark Side. In this moment, he reminds her intensely of the man she had met in the temple.

“It is, isn't it?” he agrees. Yes, this man truly does enjoy being a Sith. “This is your home now, Shan, and you are welcome here. I will keep no secrets from you.”

Shan doubts that, but she doesn’t challenge him. “So this is where you go when you are not pretending to sleep?” she observes, her eyes darting around at what looks like a laboratory.

“I have not slept in years, Shan. I have trained myself not to need sleep. Sleep is a waste of time and it is dangerous for a man in my line of work. Mostly, I work here at night.”

“Then why do you even bother to lie down in bed?” she wonders aloud. Shan is one of those little people who wastes time with sleep. A life without sleep sounds, well, exhausting.

"My meditation work requires great concentration. And sometimes,” he glances over at her, “I just want to be close to you.”

Shan ignores that comment. Like she ignores the fact that most nights now she ends up falling asleep touching him in some way or another.

“Are you doing science experiments?” she asks, looking around. The room is filled with animals in cages and there is an old droid lurking about a large table.

“Of a sort. This is my laboratory. I have devoted my life to the scientific study of the Force. The universe is a rational place, Shan. Prophesy, intuition and legend are not the true paths to knowledge of the Force.”

Shan ignores this not so subtle dig at Jedi teachings. “Let me guess—you’re studying midichlorians?”  The Jedi concern themselves with midichlorians but they reject the notion that a person’s midichlorian count is the measure of their Force ability. The Force is not so easily quantified, she has been taught.

“Shan, I have spent years studying midichlorians. They are the essence of the Force. After much research, I have learned how to extend life using midichlorians. One day I will create life anew and resurrect it once lost.” Snoke sounds very confident. Come to think of it, Snoke always sounds confident.

She steps into the room and wanders about a bit. Seeing the data logs and strange equipment. Snoke follows behind, watching her. “Life creates the Force and makes it grow,” Shan murmurs the Jedi teaching she first learned as a small child.

“Yes, and once I can create life, I can create the Force. One day, the Sith will own the Force, Shan. We will control it and create it.”

It’s a frightening thought, Shan thinks. Perhaps more frightening than Snoke’s war. But it’s impossible.

She shoots him a reproachful look. “You will never control the Force. It obeys your command but it also controls your actions. Even for a Sith.” Shan may not know everything about the Force, but she knows this.

He shrugs at her statement of Jedi catechism. Then he eyes her steadily. “There are many ways to control something, Shan. Not all of them are overt.”

She frowns at this comment, wondering if they are still speaking solely of the Force.

“You weren’t swinging a saber in here,” she observes as she turns back to him. Her eyes catch that line of strange runes tattooed down his chest and she looks away. It’s disconcerting to be standing next to this half naked Sith. It makes her think of the temple ritual chamber.

“No. Come,” he invites her and they are through a door at the back of the laboratory and into a large open training room. Here there are weapons of every kind mounted on the wall for ready access. Shan recognizes Force pikes, lightsabers of different design, staffs, blasters and even something that looks like a cross between a lightsaber and a whip. Neatly arranged in the corner are an assortment of lethal looking training droids. Strewn about the room are the wreckage of other droids, probably the carnage from this morning’s training session.

“You have been busy,” she observes as she pokes a bare foot at the mangled remnants of some sort of type of battle droid.

“I prefer a live opponent,” Snoke tells her.  “But my Apprentice is not due until later today.”

Yes, Snoke had told her that he had an Apprentice. A satisfactory Apprentice, he had described him as. Talk about damned with faint praise. But her own Master Nu had probably felt the same way about her, Shan realizes. Shan herself had not been a particularly impressive padawan. Actually, satisfactory might have been a generous assessment for her skills, Shan admits to herself.

Snoke muses. “Apprentices are a unique relationship. You may love them, but you may not trust them.”

“Why not?” Shan asks. She trusts Master Nu. And Master Nu had trusted Shan enough to ask her to join her in Coruscant.

“Because ultimately they will try to kill you. And if they don't try to kill you, then you have failed as their Master.”

Shan frowns at him. Being a Sith apprentice sounds a far cry from life as a Jedi padawan. “Why would your Apprentice want to kill you? Wouldn’t he want to learn from you?”

“Yes. For a time. The Sith Master holds power and the Sith Apprentice craves it. When the Apprentice grows powerful enough, he kills the Master and takes his own Apprentice. That has been the tradition of the Rule of Two for a thousand years since Bane.”

Shan has no idea who this Bane person is. There is a great deal about Sith history the Jedi didn’t teach. She wonders whether that is because the Jedi don’t know themselves or because they don’t want the padawans to be curious about Darkness. Is this knowledge lost or just forbidden?

Snoke keeps talking of the Sith. “The Rule of Two is an outdated concept. There is no need for the Sith to limit themselves unnecessarily. There is more than enough Dark power to go around. Not every Dark Side user needs to be a fully trained Sith. If we are to rule the galaxy, we will need more than two allied to our cause.”  

Snoke clips his saber hilt to his waist and begins toweling himself off. Again, his muscles are rippling and its distracting. “We Sith are not slaves to the past, Shan. We honor it, we learn from it and we evolve to discard what limits us.   We modern Sith will not limit ourselves by dogma.”

Once again, Shan hears his implicit criticism of the Jedi.

“The Senator from Naboo is your Apprentice, isn’t he?” she blurts out the hunch she has pondered since that first night here.

He nods thoughtfully. “How did you guess?” His question is sincere.

“I saw you use the Force in front of him.  And he has the same feel in the Force as you do,” she adds. “Completely ordinary. Almost generically so. It’s almost too . . . bland,” she is searching for the right word.

“Very perceptive, my dear.” He smiles approvingly. “Palpatine has been my Apprentice for years now. I need a human to be the face of the Sith to the galaxy. We Muuns come with too much prejudice. We invoke strong feelings as a race and the Core Worlds are so dominated by humanity. In the end, most will only accept a human as their titular elected leader.”

Listening to him, it’s coming together for Shan now. Snoke is the money, Palpatine is politics. Who is the military might, she wonders. And how many Sith are there? This outdated Rule of Two tradition is looking pretty good from a Jedi perspective. At least it limited their foes.

“Have you ever had an Apprentice, Shan?”

Shan shoots him a look. “The Jedi call them padawan learners,” she reminds him, certain that he already knows this. “And no, I have never had a padawan. I never will. That’s for Jedi who . . . who—“

“Who what, Shan?” he prompts softly.

She turns away. “Who excel.”

His hands are on her shoulders now. His lips are near her ear. “They did not appreciate what they had in you, dear wife. Such fools they were,” he whispers, like some bad angel resting on her shoulder. She steps away and he keeps talking of the lore of the Dark Side. He likes sharing this with her, she realizes.

“For a Sith, first you have a Master and then you kill one. First you are an Apprentice and then you have one. The responsibility is a bit like being a parent in some respects, for if you spare the rod, you spoil the child. Discipline is essential for a Sith. Power that lacks focus and discipline is wasted.”

Shan makes a face. She doesn’t want to hear more about Sith discipline. She remembers the meditation room in the temple with all those scary torture implements.  And she remembers an angry Snoke threatening her with discipline and Force lightning the night she had accidentally met a Jedi.

“How did you find your Apprentice?” Shan changes the topic. She’s curious. How exactly do you become Sith?

“He was never Jedi, if that is what you are asking. The Jedi who turn Sith are always so angst ridden. I find that to be tedious.   What is the point of being Sith if you do not enjoy it?”

That makes a certain kind of sense. Shan nods despite herself. Snoke always makes a lot of sense. The man is very rationale and always strategic. Very Muun. It makes her forget sometimes how awful what he’s saying truly is. Because he sounds so authoritative and reasonable and it lulls you into wanting to agree with him.

“In Sith history, it was always the former Jedi who would revert back to the Light. They made unreliable Sith. And during the era of the Rule of Two, they were an unacceptable risk. Why concentrate years of power and learning in a man who will betray you for the Light?”

“No, I handpicked my Apprentice. He had come to my attention originally as a young man curious about Sith artifacts—not unlike you, my dear—so I watched his early career with interest before I approached him. He is the oldest son of an aristocratic family. They would never have surrendered him to the Jedi for training. He was to be the future of the family. Instead, now he will be the future of the galaxy.”

Shan frowns, thinking of the beady-eyed Senator Palpatine. “The Senator doesn’t like me,” she mutters.

Snoke does not dispute this. Instead, he dismisses her concern. “Do not take it personally, my dear. He does not like Jedi. And, deep down, he distrusts everyone who isn’t fully human.” Snoke walks to toss his towel into a hamper. “I like you and you like me. That is all that matters.”

“I liked who I thought you were,” she says quietly.  Before you revealed that you were Sith and you kidnapped me and faked my death and forced me into a sham marriage you call forever. I did like you, Shan thinks to herself wistfully. Once, I liked you a lot.

He slants her a glance and goads her. “You know you like me. Stop pretending otherwise.”

Shan crosses her arms over her chest and levels him a look. “I liked the man you pretended to be.”

“I am that man.”

“No, you’re not. That was all a lie.”

“Sith do not lie,” he reminds her. And, really, that’s a bit of a lie itself. Sith might not outright lie but they certainly omit a large portion of the truth. Snoke must see her skepticism because he presses her, “Tell me, what did you like about me?”

“You were charming.”

He grins at this description. It’s that knowing gleeful grin of his. She has stroked his ego evidently. “I am still charming,” he announces. Well, kind of, she begrudgingly agrees. When he isn’t threatening her.  And controlling her. And sneaking into her thoughts. And shooting blue Force lightning around the room. “What else?” he prompts.

“You knew so much knowledge.” All that forbidden, forgotten, hidden Sith knowledge.

“I still know that knowledge. I am Darth Plagueis the Wise. I can teach you things the Jedi hide from you.” She has no rejoinder to this so he prompts again, “What else?”

“You were just so engaged in the history and I like history.” History used to be a large part of her life’s work until, of course, Snoke had stolen that life from her.

“I still like history.”  Snoke raises an eyebrow expectantly for her rebuttal.

But Shan is done with this debate. She turns away in the face of his arguments. Maybe she did know some version of Snoke. The version without all the scary megalomania to control the galaxy and to take over the Force. The version that didn’t kidnap and kill women. The version that wouldn’t betray her and hurt her and leave her feeling like an utter fool. That Snoke had been fun and irreverent and, at odd moments, irresistibly sexy.

He moves fast and in a moment Snoke is right up behind her. His hands reach for her shoulders again and his mouth nuzzles at her neck. “Let me take you bed,” he whispers. “Now.”

What? And now? It’s 6AM. Shan moves to step away from his embrace, but this time he holds her fast. Annoyed, she cranes her neck away from him, but that just gives him more room for kisses. He’s embracing her from behind now, one arm snaked about her waist and the other fondling her breasts. “I have been so, so patient for you, Shan. You have no idea how much I want you.”

Since that first night when Snoke had backed off after she told him no, Shan has been pretending that she could put this off forever. That this is a marriage in name only. Snoke would hold her hand and drop the occasional chaste kiss on her brow or even her lips. Once he had even held her tight through a Force vision. And almost nightly now she sleeps snuggled at his side. But that is it. They are more roommates than lovers. Not once has he pressured her. Until now.

Now, he is definitely pressuring her.

He pulls her closer still and she can feel him growing hard against her. And it fills her with a strange rush of power at the knowledge that she can do this to him. That this man who could have any woman he wants, would wait for her. Would long for her. “Yes . . . do not make me wait any longer.” He pinches hard on one nipple and she gasps in a mix of surprise, pain and pleasure. “Do not deny me.” It’s a command more than a request. His other hand dips below her waistband to the softness of her belly below.

She shouldn’t be doing this. The deeper in she gets with this Sith, the harder it will be to get away from him.   As it is, she knows far too much of his nefarious plans for him ever to let her leave. Shan knows that the more Snoke shares with her, the more trapped she becomes. Trapped in a gilded life with this perfect looking, powerful man who is some twisted version of a fairytale prince. He’s the handsome lover who appeared one day to sweep her off her feet, only Shan hadn’t wanted to leave her life behind. But he had carried her off all the same. Because there are no choices with Snoke other than his choices.

No, she definitely shouldn’t be doing this. But oh this feels good. His right hand dips lower still and oh yes that feels even better.

Shan has been taking covert peeks at him across the room at crowded parties. And she’s been dreaming torrid fantasies of him most every night now. And with each passing day and each published photograph, she is more entrenched in his world of lies as Madame Damask. So somehow it feels inevitable to lose herself in his arms once again.

One night in the ritual chamber of a Sith temple had not been enough for him. And, maybe, Shan thinks, it wasn’t enough for her either. So she spins in his arms and now they are facing one another.   She reaches for him and things escalate fast. Her arms are around his neck and she is stretched the length of him. They fit perfectly together standing for a kiss. Her back is arched and her head is back and this is reckless. Very reckless.

“We are married,” he reminds her between open mouth kisses that suck at her neck. Her bra is still on but it’s unhooked now and her breasts spill out underneath into his greedy hands. “There is no shame in this, Shan.”

Yes, there is shame in this. Terrible shame. Shame that she ever willingly got involved with this man. Shame that some anonymous woman has died for Shan’s folly. Shame that she lives a glittering lie before the cameras nightly as she betrays her commitment to the Jedi. Shame that she’s willingly kissing him now despite all that she knows of this man. She ought to be cringing from his touch. But right now, Shan is doubling down on her mistakes in Snoke’s arms.

Because as awful as this man is, there is something about him that is still so compelling, so impressive, so attractive. All his power and confidence is appealing. And she’s probably a horrible person for thinking that, but so be it. It’s not like she really has a lot of choice in this relationship anyhow.

His hands have left her breasts and they are on her ass, edging her panties and borrowed pants low down her hips. It’s clear that this is not going to end with just passionate kissing and her bra off. Snoke wants it all. And in the moment, she does too. Just breathing in the sweaty, male scent of him is driving her wild.

“No.” He pulls back suddenly. Surprising her. Shaking his head at her. “Not like this. You are my wife, Shan. I won’t fuck you against the wall like a street prostitute.”

Did Snoke just say fuck?

She’s panting now. Open mouthed and staring at him. Dripping wet with throbbing hot desire for him. This is how Shan got herself into this no-win situation in the first place.   A moment of abandon in his arms that she didn’t stop when given the chance. And then things went way too far. She should have learned her lesson by now. But all Shan can think is go ahead, fuck me. Fuck me now.

Snoke must be in her head because he seems to understand and his hesitation is over. He’s driving her back and she hits the wall hard. He’s all over her with a new intensity. His mouth devouring hers. His hands up under her pilfered t-shirt. His hips grinding hard into hers in what she hopes is a pantomime of what is to come.

Then he pulls back from her a second time. Abruptly breaking their kiss and dropping his hands. And this time he swears in some language she doesn’t know.   And then swears again in a language she does know.   And that in itself is shocking. Very rarely is this man vulgar.

He sighs. Then leans in to kiss her softly. She instantly understands it is a kiss of goodbye. Their stolen moment is over. This is not happening.

“As usual, my Apprentice has horrible timing.” Snoke turns away.   His frustration is evident. “Cover yourself, my dear. We have a visitor.” Her eyes widen and Shan blushes a furious dark red. She looks across the room to the exit to the laboratory and he nods. “Darth Sidious is here early. He will be joining us out this evening. Until then, he and I have work to do.” Shan hears the dismissal in his voice. She darts away, up the stairs and is gone.

Which, all things considered, is probably for the best.

Hours later, it is intermission at the opera and Shan is standing in a silver evening gown listening to her husband discuss the Republic’s failure to combat piracy on hyperspace lanes with some Neimoidian.   San Hill interrupts to discretely whisper in Snoke’s ear. Her husband nods and excuses himself. But first he turns to Senator Palpatine at her side.

“I regret that I need to attend to an urgent matter. Senator, can I rely on you to escort my lady safely home?”

The words are spoken as a polite request, but they are a command in disguise. Palpatine of course agrees. But no sooner has Snoke disappeared from the room than the Senator turns to San Hill. “Hill, you take her home.” And then Senator Palpatine himself disappears for the evening.

Shan doesn’t really think much of it. In fact, she’s a bit relieved. She likes Senator Palpatine about as much as he likes her.

Later, San Hill is telling her a silly, raunchy anecdote about the Corellian senior senator and she is laughing out loud when they arrive back at the apartment with the rest of the security detail. Shan is not expecting anyone to be home yet except Milo. So when the door opens and she is giggling so hard she’s almost crying, Shan is not prepared to find a serious looking Snoke waiting for her with Senator Palpatine at his side.

Oh. Shan straightens up and removes her hand from Hill’s arm. Hill is instantly formal and serious. He’s back to being her security escort and not her gossipy, sometimes off-color friend.

Snoke raises one eyebrow at her but says nothing. Her husband’s censure is focused on Palpatine. For it is impossible to miss the look of utter contempt that Snoke shoots the Senator as she approaches with San Hill. “Here she is, Mr. Chairman. Safe and sound.” Snoke nods in acknowledgment and San bows low. Then Hill and the rest of the security team withdraw especially quickly.

An awkward moment of silence follows and Shan is in a hurry to break it. She is tired and doesn’t want to get in the middle of whatever is going on between the Sith and his Apprentice. So Shan nods politely to the Senator, smiles tentatively at Snoke and excuses herself. “Goodnight.”

“Wait a moment, my dear,” Snoke reaches for her, forestalling her exit. Perhaps it is his touch that triggers her, or just the proximity of these two Sith. Shan isn’t sure. But as Snoke takes her hand, she feels the sudden, strong rush of Force to her mind as a vision takes over. Shan grips his arm frantically as her physical world dissolves.

_Many booted feet sound loud footfalls on the marble stairs. Soldiers armored in white march in to victory. With their combined strength, they will bring order to the galaxy. Now, at last, we shall have peace and a safe and secure society._

Snoke’s voice sounds as if from far away. “See how completely she surrenders her mind into the Force? Take a lesson there, Sidious. She quite literally swoons into it. Remarkable, is it not?   She is such a conduit for the Force.”

_They wear helmets so she cannot spy their faces, but she knows for certain that underneath they all look the same.   It is a small army comprised of the same one man. Uniformity marches in unison. And it is a travesty of nature._

“Did you feel it?  It is like a lightning strike and she simply absorbs it. The Jedi were fools to belittle her talents. Always, they denigrate what does not fit their framework of understanding.”

_A man strides fearlessly before this legion, a harbinger of death shrouded by a hooded dark cloak.  He is not a general who sits safely behind the line of fire.   For with each determined step, a lightsaber bounces at his hip._

“She is Jedi.” These faint words drip with undisguised contempt.

“Sidious, one day you shall believe me that you cannot eradicate the Light. You may succeed for a time, but the Force always seeks balance and it will strike back at you. In a time, and in a manner, that you least suspect.   Mark my words, Apprentice, or the Force will humble you. Control the Light. That should be your goal. It poses far fewer risks and much greater rewards.”

_The phantom menace has taken form at last. But still, the Sith are hard to identify. Both sides will greet this man as a friend but will fall by his sword. For he is a true Sith who in the end will betray them all. His allegiance is only ever to himself and to his master. His only God is power._

“You too should find yourself a Jedi girl. Perhaps once you experience the Light in a different fashion, you will reconsider.”

“I'll never fuck a Jedi.”

 "More's the pity, Sidious. It would be an improvement from your current female company.”

  _This is a familiar place for the man. Here he is respected, greeted with welcome and called by name. Which makes this star-crossed Judas all the more treacherous. As his blue lightsaber slashes through opponents large and small, old and young, Shan recognizes the setting._

_I_ _t is the Jedi Temple on Coruscant._

“For years, I thought you to simply be a sadist, Sidious. But now I know you to be a masochist where women are concerned. You should have rid yourself of her long ago.   She is beneath you.”

“Master—“

“Ah, our lovely prophet of the Light is coming around now. Let us hear what she has to say.”

Awareness retakes her mind and once again Shan is in the present. Trembling still as she is held fast in the arms of Snoke.   Her head faces to the side and her blurry vision focuses in on Senator Palpatine. The Senator looks equal parts annoyed and impatient.

“What did you see?” Snoke asks quietly.

“A man in a dark cloak slaughtering Jedi at the temple on Coruscant.”

The Apprentice’s face lights up at this news. Now she has Palpatine’s full attention. He advances, demanding, “Who is he? Tell us!”

“He is Sith.”

That much she is certain of. But Shan is still sorting through the images. Trying to mate them with the intuitive knowledge that flows from a Force vision. This is her true talent in the Force. Not just to see the future, but to understand it correctly.

“I didn't see his face.   He is tall with a blue saber much like mine.”

“Is it me?” This comes out hopefully.

No, it was not Palpatine. Shan shakes her head. The Senator is crowding in on her now and she sees Snoke raise a hand to shoo him back to give her space.

“No. . . no. . . he is—“ she falters. “Too tall. Too young. He is--“ Again, Shan stops herself. Closing her eyes as she processes the rush of information. And then the knowledge hits her like a blow to the chest. As if knocking the wind from her body, making her temporarily unable to breathe. Snoke steadies her and for a few seconds he’s the only thing keeping her upright.

“Who is it?” the Senator demands again.

She pulls back to look up at Snoke. Her dark eyes lock with his. She is certain now. “He is your son.”

“My son?” Snoke breathes in wonderment.

“Your son?” Palpatine says in unwelcome surprise.

Snoke is staring at her. “So you will give me a son.”

The Sith is Snoke’s son, but is he also her son? She isn’t sure. Shan looks aside in confusion. She catches Palpatine’s eye and the Apprentice is not pleased.

Snoke reaches to cup her cheek and draws back her eyes. “But how marvelous, my dear. Such a happy future you have divined for us.” His face is inscrutable as he stares down at her troubled face a long moment. He looks as if he is about to say something. But thinks better of it and keeps his silence.

Then, he is on to other things. “Now, indulge me tonight for we have a guest who has asked after you. Just come and say hello.”   Snoke beckons her down the hall and the three of them enter the lounge area of the apartment.

Shan freezes on the threshold beside Snoke.

“You remember Jedi Master Dooku, don’t you, my dear?”

Yes, she does. How could she forget? Master Dooku crosses the room to nod politely and smile at her.

Shan takes a deep breath and automatically reverts to her Madame Damask persona.   At the blink of an eye, she is the gracious hostess. “What a pleasant surprise to see you again, Master Dooku.   It is an honor to have a Jedi in our home. Welcome.”

“Master Dooku, the Senator and I have some political matters to discuss,” Snoke informs her. “But I didn’t want you to miss the opportunity to meet a man of his standing.”

“Yes,” Shan’s face is the picture of sincerity. “Jedi are so rare here on Munnilinst.”

“And I could not pass up the chance to see again the beautiful Muun lady with the Force on her finger.” Master Dooku inclines his head. “Goodnight, Madame.”

“Goodnight, Master Dooku.” Her eyes flit to Palpatine. “Goodnight, Senator.”

Snoke tugs at her arm and then he’s walking her back down the hall to his bedroom. “I don’t understand,” she tells him in a low voice.

“Master Dooku is the lead Jedi diplomat to negotiate trade disputes in the Rim. And he has grown, shall we say, disenchanted with the Republic’s politics and the Jedi Order’s relentless meddling. Dooku is an ally of mine, Shan.”

“What does that mean?” She thinks she understands, but she wants to hear Snoke say it out loud.

“It means he would never have been able to help you even if he wanted to. Dooku is mine through and through. He himself doesn’t fully know it yet. But he will soon.” Snoke looks very pleased with himself. He flashes Shan that slow, devious smile. “I thought you should know. There is no reason for you to lose sleep over that chance encounter. No matter what you had done differently, the outcome would always have been the same.”

Shan looks away. She doesn’t want to think about that night. Or about the ugly confrontation with Snoke afterwards. All of which now feel suspiciously like a setup. “I have never given it another thought,” she lies through clenched teeth.

“Oh, yes, you have,” Snoke slants her a knowing glance. “My reach into the galaxy is very far, very wide and very deep, Shan. I control much more than you understand. Even a few Jedi.”

Like me, she thinks unhappily. “He was a test wasn’t he?”

“Yes, and you failed miserably.” Snoke doesn’t seem too displeased though, judging by his tone. He muses, “You did surprise me. I admire your courage for taking the risk. I did not know that you had it in you, Shan.” It’s a backhanded compliment and she doesn’t know what to make of this.

They are at the bedroom now and he ushers her inside. “Does Dooku know who I am?” Shan asks in a small voice.

“That you are Jedi? No. He is fooled by the ring. He also does not know that I am Sith, and he never will. My Apprentice will manage him.” Snoke steps closer to her. “It is a very select group who know who I am, Shan.” His hands are moving up her bare arms now and his mouth comes down on hers. His kiss is hungry and insistent. Their tryst in his training room this morning must have whetted his appetite. He moves now from her lips to her neck. Intermingling words between kisses. “Rarely do I give second chances, Shan. But you are worth it. Especially now.” His hand roam her body and Shan can’t help it. She’s starting to respond. “All evening I have been looking at your grey skin blending into this silver dress.   Picturing you naked. Wanting to touch you. Wearing this dress alone probably earns you a second chance, Shan.” His lips are on hers again for a deep, never-ending kiss. Finally, he breaks away and she is gasping for breath. “If ever you try to kill me, Shan. Be sure to wear this dress. I might forgive you if you wear this dress.”

What? Shan pushes him back. Talk of killing people is hardly romantic. And it reminds her of who this man truly is. She scowls at him, suddenly wishing Snoke would just go away.

“You’re right,” he chuckles. “I am neglecting our guests. Go to bed, Shan. I will see you in the morning.”


	14. Chapter 14

“Senator Lesser didn’t look so good tonight,” Shan comments offhand as they exit the shuttle to their private rooftop landing platform. Finally, they are home after a long evening.

“That is because the Senator has a secret spice habit,” Snoke shares with her. “It comes and goes depending on how much stress he is under. The man is weak.”

She frowns. “That’s a shame. He’s a Senator. Isn’t that life always stressful?”

Snoke chuckles and reveals, “He is a Senator with a pregnant mistress and an unhappy wife.   That is an especially stressful life.”

Shan glances sideways at the Sith. “I’m not going to ask you how you know that.”

“I will tell you if you want to know,” he offers with a gleam in his eye. Almost daring her to ask.

Shan shakes her head and rolls her eyes. How this man loves his subterfuge. “No, I don’t want to know.”

And it’s the truth. Shan suspects that the more she knows of Snoke’s ways, the more cause she will have to fear the secret Sith. So perhaps it’s best not to know the full extent of his methods. With each passing day, it is slowly sinking in that Shan is going to need to make peace with her situation. And maybe some willful ignorance on her part is a good start. She has also started trying to find aspects of him to appreciate and perhaps even admire. For if Shan will be forever trapped in this marriage, she wants to find something to esteem about this man who calls himself her husband.

Snoke is impressive in a twisted fashion, she has decided. For he is nothing like the mustache twirling cartoon villain in a black mask she once would have pictured a Sith to be.   Those expectations seem far too childish by comparison to the reality of Snoke and his Apprentice. No, Shan has learned that evil is far more subtle in its ways. Harder to recognize than you might think. Evil stands beside you at a party and hands you a drink while asking about your family and remembering your children’s names. Evil is an aristocratic Senator who rubs shoulders with the elite but still maintains the common touch with his constituents. These modern Sith are wolves in sheep’s clothing, but make no mistake they are wolves through and through.

And her particular wolf now stalks beside her into the apartment as they rehash the evening.  This has become their custom.

“All anyone wanted to talk about tonight was reconstitution of the Senate. Do you think those proposals will gain support?” Shan looks to Snoke for his view. Snoke always has his finger on the pulse of galactic politics. It occurs to her that if her husband ever does succeed with his plots, he might actually make a good Co-Chancellor or whatever he and Sidious have planned.

He shrugs. “Not enough to pass. But they are important nevertheless. Do not forget that most of the galaxy exists outside of the Core Worlds. If the Senate were a true democracy, the Rim Worlds would dominate the Republic.” He keeps talking politics as they enter the bedroom together.  “Those proposals are really a disguised means to keep wealth concentrated in the Core. The Core is happy to strip the Rim of its natural resources while it ignores its squalor and crime. If this continues, in time the Rim Worlds will be a permanent slum populated mostly by slaves, criminals and the poor. Mark my words, Shan, nothing creates unrest like a lot of Have Nots and only a few Haves.”

Shan listens as she crosses the room to her bedside table.   She plucks off her earrings and slides off her wedding ring to drop them on a tray. She wears them every night, so they are never truly put away. The distinctive jewels have become something of a signature look for Shan. "It sounds like you may have to wait awhile for your war," she remarks.

"Not if I can stoke a flashpoint in the near term." Snoke isn’t ready to give up yet it seems. Of course, this man would not be easily deterred.

Shan plops down on the bed to slide off her heeled sandals. "You mean the tax proposals?"

"Yes, few issues provoke as much anger as taxes." Snoke is lingering tonight, she realizes. Some nights he stays to lie down with her, but other nights he rushes off to his work downstairs. He has no predictable pattern as far as she can tell.

"I have never paid any taxes. Jedi temples are exempt,” Shan tells him as she gathers up her sandals. It feels good to take them off. Even though she stands for hours in heels most evenings, Shan will never get used to the feel of them. Many nights she has dearly missed her beat up old Jedi boots.

"You have never worked for real credits, Shan. Never seen the fruits of your labor diminished by a line item of involuntary tithe for the Republic."

She considers this. "Someone has to pay for the government. Shouldn't everyone pay a share?"

"The Core Worlds get more than their share of the benefits, Shan, and pay less per capita proportionately of the burdens. So the Haves get more and the Have Nots pay more."

She looks over her shoulder to grin at him as she heads for the closet. He sounds like a socialist. "Are you a revolutionary at heart, Snoke?"

He laughs at the notion that he might have utopian goals. "No, I am an anarchist, Shan. I care only to provoke the conflict."

Shan disappears into the closet. Snoke follows, his body propped against the doorframe, watching her. He must be planning to meditate tonight. He’s in no hurry to leave.

Shan puts her sandals up and then collects her nightgown from a hangar. Glancing over her shoulder, she sees that Snoke is still there watching. It feels a little uncomfortable to have an audience while she undresses. It was a commonplace occurrence when she lived in the Jedi women’s dormitory. But this is entirely different.

He doesn’t usually do this.

Shan takes a deep breath and decides that she might as well get used to this too.  Ignoring him, she stretches to reach the zipper down the back of her dress. She can get it partway down, but then it sticks. Shan contorts and tugs. No luck. She turns to ask Snoke for help since he’s still here. And when she meets his gaze, his dark eyes almost burn her with their intensity. For a moment, she feels consumed by his stare.   Then he crooks his index finger and the zipper slowly slides down her back with the help of the Force.

“Thanks.” Now why hadn’t she thought of that herself?

The dress is a heavy burgundy velvet and when the fabric parts she feels the tingle of cool air down her back. Shan shivers slightly at the sensation.

Snoke is still looking at her like he wants to devour her whole. “Take it off,” he commands quietly. “Take it off slowly.”

Shan nods and in the moment she can only think to obey. So languidly she peels one arm out of the long sleeved gown. And then the other arm, and now the dress fabric is clutched tightly to her chest, bunching up her breasts that are ready to spill out. This dress is covered and sleek everywhere but the bodice, which is cut wide and deep. And like all her gowns, the bra support is sewn in. Shan only wears panties underneath.

Snoke watches her every move in silent rapt attention. His lips are slightly parted and she can see the rise and fall of his chest. A flash of yellow appears and disappears from his eyes with a blink. She is exciting him, Shan realizes. And this knowledge emboldens her, makes her feel powerful standing exposed before this fearsome Sith Master who can shoot lightning from his fingertips. He may have the upperhand in all things, but at least in this Shan has some leverage.

"More," he breathes out the word more than says it. "More."

She drops the fabric and she is naked to the waist. Her heavy, full breasts spill down. Shan can’t help but blush and look away.   Raising one hand to her neck in automatic self-consciousness. His eyes are all over her and it’s making her shy again. Her boldness evaporates under the weight of his stare.

"More."

Shan reaches her thumbs under both sides of the gown and wiggles slightly as she eases it over her hips. Then the dress drops to the floor in a puddle of velvet.

Shan is standing in nothing but white lace panties.

"More."

Shan hesitates. Her confidence fails her and she freezes. She’s pretty certain she won’t be putting on her nightgown now. Undressing like this is only going to end one way.

"More. Please."

His voice is hoarse sounding and she looks up to see his eyes are full yellow now.   Oddly enough, it doesn't frighten her. Snoke looks almost as vulnerable as she feels standing mostly naked before him. Like he is worried she will turn him down.

So she reaches to shimmy down her panties. They drop to the floor and she steps out of them.

He is quiet for what seems like an eternity before he speaks. “You are beautiful in so many ways, Shan. But the most beautiful thing about you is your innocence. Your goodness. Your Light. There is precious little of that in my world. Never lose that, Shan.   It is you.”

If Snoke thinks it strange for a Master of Darkness to be admiring the Light, he doesn’t show it. He merely holds out his hand to her. “Come, my dear. Come to bed with me.”

Shan hesitates a moment until he nods encouragingly. Reassured, she takes his hand and follows him into the room.

He sheds clothing as they go. First his stately banker’s robe. Then his shirt. She is standing facing the line of dark runes tattooed down his chest as he works to peel off the rest. And then he is as bare as she is.

Not just his body, but his self too. For the Sith has shed his cloak in the Force. Now his Dark power blazes forth in her mind’s eye. She gasps, closes her eyes and inhales to steady herself. For the sheer reach of his mind is overwhelming as it washes over her like a wave breaking at the shore.   It is the same vivid torrent of extremes that she remembers. But this time it does not threaten. Instead, it beckons.

“Let me look into you,” he murmurs as his lips hover mere inches over her upturned face.   His body is close but not touching hers. And all the while, his power draws her to him like a moth to the flame. It is a mental seduction of sorts. Just standing close to him is making her body wet with the want of him.

“I want all of you tonight, Shan. Body and soul.”

Shan doesn’t really understand what he’s asking, but she can’t hold back in the face of this relentless temptation.   She wants him despite her better judgment. And for a long time, she has known that this night was inevitable. Shan is not a fighter by nature. So she nods, not trusting herself to speak.

“Then invite me in,” he whispers, his yellow eyes flashing at her.

Rising to her tiptoes and reaching to pull him down, Shan claims his mouth for her kiss.   And the moment their lips meet, the Sith is deep, deep into her mind.

“Oh!” His mental thrust is a shock followed by a sharp pain. He keeps kissing her through it until it subsides. And in its wake is rapture. Oh gods! What is this? She weaves unsteady on her feet and he reaches to effortlessly lift her. Carrying her to bed and laying her down like she was the most precious thing in the universe. And all the while, she feels it both as herself and as him.

She senses the pressure of his strong arms beneath her even as she also hefts the weight of her own body in his arms. And then she feels the hardness of his frame covering hers even as she presses down into her own yielding softness. She is her mind and his mind together, and it is wonderously strange. Now his lips are on her breast, nibbling at her nipple. Shan feels the heat pool between her legs and the wet sharp bite of him at her chest. But she also feels the eager excitement of his mouth and the surging hardness of his growing erection. Each caress, rub and squeeze, every kiss, lick and suck. Mirrored in her mind for her and for him.

So she knows the aching, immediate need he feels for release. Tonight will be fast. His body has not had a woman since Shan had spread her legs for him on the ritual table too long ago. He is hot and ready to spend himself in her again. And she in turn is slick and dripping for him but frightened all the same. Worried that pain will evaporate all this pleasure as it had once before. Worried that tonight means there is no turning back from this man and his pretend marriage. She had trusted him once before and that had gone so horribly wrong.

He strokes at her cheek, his yellow eyes transfixing hers. Calming her. “Guide me in this time,” he tells her but his lips never move. For there is no need for words when their minds are entangled like this.

She reaches to grab the hard length of him and gasps at his pleasure at her touch. And then she is aligning them and he knows she is ready as he slides in. This time, the throbbing, stretch of him is all pleasure and no pain. And with their minds joined, it is double the pleasure. His and hers woven together.

The experience is almost too much as he thrusts hard, rubbing at something within that drives her wild and has her instinctively clenching him. His friction has them each at the brink before long, as both their minds stoke the perception of their bodies.

Then comes the dissolve of her mind, with his, into the Force. It’s a brief oblivion from the blaze of Light that reflects on him and then back into her mind again. An overwhelming burst of energy that leaves her keening as her body quakes and gushes forth all over him. Her power and her body overtaking him in climax. Snoke quickly answers with his own guttural shout of triumph as now he pumps himself hard and deep into her. Through their shared bond, she feels the joy of his release and the deep sense of mastery and possession he feels for her. This Sith is satisfied tonight and well pleased with his bride.

They stay joined body and mind for a long moment before he pulls back. Then he settles beside her and draws up the sheets. Shan lays sprawled across his body, utterly relaxed. And relieved.

“You will be my Light, Shan,” he confides to her. “For always, the Force seeks balance. In an individual, as well as in the greater scheme of things. And the darker the Sith, the stronger his pull to the Light.”

Snoke warms to this theme, speaking of Light and Dark as if they might co-exist and attract, rather than repel. “I will take you to Coruscant and make love to you in the center of the universe as I claim your Light for Darkness,” he promises.   “Then I will take you to Moraband and lay with you in the shadow of Bane’s tomb and fill your body with the seed of a Sith. You are my Light and I am your Darkness. Together we are a matched pair.”

Shan just snuggles deeper into him, lost in his words as Snoke keeps talking of their future. For this Sith plots in all things, marriage and sex included.

“The Force brought us together for a reason,” Snoke tells her as he strokes her back absently. “And now, you have seen the future and divined the purpose. You and I have come together for a child.”

Shan shifts in his arms, suddenly uncomfortable. It is deeply unsettling to remember her vision of the cloaked man—hardly more than a teenager really—methodically cutting down Jedi. Could this murderous figure really be her son? The thought is horrifying.

Almost as horrifying as the thought of being a mother. Modern Jedi aren’t supposed to have children except in very special circumstances with the prior approval of the High Council. The parent-child relationship is the ultimate form of attachment—an even worse violation than her illicit marriage. For you can dissolve a marriage, but you can never stop being someone’s mother.

“I’m not certain about the child,” she confesses.

“You were last night.”

Shan finds him looking at her gently. “I am certain that he is your son,” she explains. “But I am not certain that he is my son.”

“Shan,” Snoke sits up and she sits up with him. The Sith reaches out to claim her left hand with his own. Scar matches scar as he laces their fingers. “I will be faithful to you as you are faithful to me. If I have a son, it will be with you. Only with you.” Snoke lifts her chin with his free hand. “Think of it,” he whispers, his eyes dark once again but no less compelling. “All my power, all your power, mingling together in a new life. Our son will be a Sith prince born to rule the galaxy at his father’s side.”

Of course, the child would signify a dynasty of power for Darth Plagueis. A little Sith he can teach to hide, to plot and to kill. The boy that will one day replace Snoke’s merely satisfactory Apprentice.

But looking into her husband’s eyes, Shan wonders where she fits into this future. She is the shameful wife to a Sith Master and the would-be mother to a child her Jedi brethren would surely view as some form of abomination. Where would this leave her?

Snoke must sense her reservations for he squeezes her hand in reassurance. “You must unlearn what the Jedi have taught you. We are made for one another. Our marriage is the will of the Force, as the child will be. It is destiny, my dear.”

Shan wishes she had his conviction. And listening to the plotting puppet master of the galaxy speak of surrendering to destiny is a bit unnerving. Destiny sounds suspiciously like a trap, she thinks.

That first night together changes things, as Shan knew it would. Now that Snoke has begun plotting their future together in earnest, he welcomes Shan into his grand plan for war.   And with baby steps, slowly she becomes the helpmate to her Sith.

Keep the Muun Senator talking for a few minutes, he asks the next night at a party.   It is a simple request, outwardly innocuous. But Shan knows better.   Nothing her husband does at these events is ever without purpose.    Still, it is the first time Snoke has ever enlisted her help for anything. And that makes her feel trusted in some small but meaningful way. So Shan is happy to comply.  And that’s how it begins.  

Soon Shan is a one-woman diversionary tactic.  Now that she has been on the social scene long enough to know all the players in this select elite group, Snoke begins to turn her loose for discrete tasks.  Stall the Corporate Sector envoy for a few minutes while I finish a conversation with the Senator from Sullust.  Find this shipping magnate and make sure to drop into the conversation that I have been asked to testify before the Senate trade hearings.  Find a way to tell this mining executive that I met with Karflo Corp. last week. Sometimes the instructions are premeditated onboard the shuttle, sometimes they are a whisper in her ear at a crowded party, and other times they are Snoke’s voice in her head from across the room.

On their face, each small task is rather trivial and the information relayed is often vague and seemingly inconsequential.  But it doesn’t take long for Shan to recognize Snoke's little manipulations.   Shan soon comes to understand that Snoke has a mosaic of information he confides in his select business and political confidantes.  Each time it is reshuffled and tweaked in ways to most gratify the recipient.  The aim is usually for the hearer to conclude that Snoke is their staunchest ally. Or sometimes to obfuscate Snoke’s connections with others.  For Snoke plays both sides and he plays the long game.   He won't pick a side, Shan suspects, until he knows he will pick the winner.  Or maybe, Shan thinks, the only winner will be Snoke and everyone else will lose.

In any event, it makes the evenings somewhat more interesting.  Now there is a goal to be achieved, however trivial. And it’s not like she’s brokering arms deals or anything terrible like that. Mostly, she’s talking to people about things they could easily find out if they truly went looking.   And Shan might as well be doing this because San Hill has disappeared off her security team so there’s no one to talk to when Snoke wanders off. Talking to the run of the mill IGBC thugs is like talking to a durasteel wall.

After the powerplay of the social scene each evening, comes the sex. Jedi Master Nu would be horrified to know it, but Shan is in Snoke’s arms most every night now. And many times it begins hours beforehand when the secret Sith is across the room and Shan feels the brush of his phantom hand down her back. Or perhaps the ghost of his kiss on the nape of her neck.  Some nights are foreplay all evening long as he teases her with the Force in ways only she understands. Inevitably, by the time they depart for home, Shan is hot to have him.  

All that wanting makes her aggressive, and he loves it.  

She’s got her head up under his robes in the shuttle and he’s laughing and telling her to be quiet or someone will hear. And that just eggs her on. Or they are barely inside the apartment when she is pulling him down for a kiss and now he’s got her up against the wall and they never make it to the bedroom.   When they do make it, more likely than not she is the one on top. Grinding away with her head thrown back in wild abandon while he laces his hands with hers and stares up appreciatively at her bouncing chest.

No, it doesn’t take long for Shan to realize that the wily Sith who controls so much of the galaxy wants to relinquish that control in the bedroom. But, in true Snoke fashion, he is the mastermind who sets all things in motion. He instigates with a look or maybe a touch or a suggestive whisper in her head. Just enough to get her going. And then he sits back, gets in her head, and lets her take over. It’s a bit like her Sith’s war, except Snoke never has to wait long for things to come to fruition. For Shan is eager and predictable and that’s how they both like it. Night after night after night.


	15. Chapter 15

Snoke is laying on his back in bed next to her. Shan is not sure whether he stayed to meditate all night after she had fallen asleep or whether he had crept back into bed this morning before she had awoken. Either way is good for Shan. She likes when Snoke is the last thing she sees at night and the first thing she sees in the morning. His presence has become comforting to her now, and no longer scary.  

 

His dark eyes dart across to her, silently laughing, as he answers her question. “Actually, you are my fifth wife, Shan.”

 

She’s his fifth wife? Shan is propped on her side facing him, her head resting on her bent elbow. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what happened to the other four?”   Five wives are a lot for any man, and Snoke seems awfully young to have gone through so many already.   Plus, Shan has searched Snoke under his various aliases on the holonet and never once seen a picture of another wife. She only found one reference in print to a prior Madame Damask from years ago, and she was described as an invalid.

 

“I have honored and cared for each of my wives all the days of their lives.” Snoke gives her a vague non-answer. And that alone makes Shan morbidly curious. Really, she deserves to know what she's got herself into with this Sith. Did he never let the other wives out of the house? Are they still locked up in the basement somewhere? Did he sacrifice them all in the ritual chamber of his Sith temple? Shan’s imagination is starting to run away with her.

 

“Tell me about them,” she persists.

 

“My prior wives have all been Twi'leks. You are my only Muun wife, Shan.”

 

She nods. This information makes sense. Of course, Snoke would choose Twi'lek wives. The man loves a woman's curves. Even now with one hand he is absently toying with her bare breasts. In private now, Snoke rarely keeps his hands off Shan.

 

“In the temple, you said that your wife died years ago,” Shan prompts him again.

 

He’s looking up at the ceiling now, lips pursed as he remembers. “Yes, my last wife died almost three years ago. She was a slave I got off a Hutt. I launder a lot of money for the Hutts, and they sometimes kick in special payment.”

 

“The Hutts pay you in women?”  That’s outrageous. But why does this not surprise her?

 

Snoke chuckles at her reaction then looks slightly wistful. “Pilar was charming and she was a lovely dancer. I cleaned her up, cured her of disease and kept her as my own.”

 

Shan’s eyes narrow. “So she went from being a Hutt slave to being your slave?”

 

“She was my wife.” Snoke speaks sharply now. Her words have offended him and he gives her a sideways glance. “I kept her until she died of natural causes at seventy-one.” Shan is chastised and she sits up in bed. Snoke eyes her steadily and now she feels terrible.   It is clear that his late wife had been much more than a slave to him. “Seventy-one is long-lived for her species. We were married over thirty years when Pilar became one with the Force.”

 

“How old are you?” Shan whispers, confused by the math. Snoke looks to be somewhere in his mid to late forties. Shan has never been good with ages, but there’s no way Snoke is old enough to have been married over thirty years to just one of his wives.

 

“I extend my life through the Force. Shan, I am much older than I look.”

 

“How old?”

 

“340 standard years.”

 

“Oh.” Wow. Shan doesn’t know what to make of this knowledge. No wonder her thirty-two years seem young to him. Because she is very young by comparison. Shan is uncomfortable now and physically edging away from him, but he reaches up to draw her back down to bed beside him.

 

“Do not fear me, Shan,” he tells her. “We are past that now, I hope. I want you to know me. I do not wish to be a mystery.”

 

Shan nods warily. She should probably stop asking questions on this topic, but Shan is curious. Now more than ever. “And the other three? What about your other wives?”

 

“My first wife was a linguist. She wrote and spoke nine languages fluently. She was an employee of my company when I met her. My second wife was a teacher. Nuala was a sweet, nurturing woman. She loved children even though we never had any of our own.”

 

No, Shan thinks, of course they would not have had any children with an interspecies marriage. “And the third?”

 

Snoke frowns up at the ceiling. “My third marriage was a mistake. It ended badly.”

 

There’s a story there. And Shan wants to know it. “Did you divorce?”

 

“Sith marriage is for life, Shan. There is no divorce.” Snoke rolls over on his side to face her. Then levels her a look. “I killed her.”

 

Shan blinks and her breath catches in her throat. She swallows hard.

 

“It was justified. I caught her in bed with my then apprentice. I killed them both and I do not regret it.” Snoke must see her fear because he lightens the mood, flashing her that wry grin of his. “At least, I know I do not have to worry about you hopping into bed with Darth Sidious.”

 

Shan furrows her brow. “No,” she quickly agrees. “No, you don't.” And now Shan feels compelled to ask, “How did the others die?”

 

“The first died in her middle years in a freak hyperspace accident. It was a horrible, violent death.  She did not deserve such an end. The other two died of old age.”  

 

“Did they know that you are Sith?” Shan wants to know.

 

“The first did not. The others did.”

 

“And did you kidnap them all?” This question comes out a bit ghoulishly but he did just confess to murder, after all.

 

Snoke chuckles in response. “Ah, Shan, you paint me as such a villain.   Will I disappoint you if I tell you that it was far more conventional and mundane?   That I courted them, married them and cared for them much like any other man? All except for the fourth, who I essentially bought on a whim.” He shrugs. “Some might adopt a stray pet, but I took in an unwanted slave girl.”

 

Conventional and mundane are two things she would never associate with Snoke. And it surprises her to think of him doing anything on a whim. This Sith seems very deliberate in all things. “Was I a whim?” she has to ask.

 

“No, you were the will of the Force. Once I found you, I was never going to let you go, Shan.” He reaches over now to stroke his hand down her body, tracing the curve of her waist and hip. “Seldom do I act on impulse.  But it is always where women are concerned.   I have always enjoyed the company of women.”

 

“I especially enjoy that I can take you out in public,” he tells Shan. “My Pilar had grown up a slave. She was uneducated and unsophisticated.   Unsuitable to be seen in public as my wife.   But she was very kindhearted. Truly an exemplary character despite her largely wretched life.”

 

Rescuing a stray slave doesn’t exactly square with what Shan knows of Snoke the calculating banker who plots a galactic civil war.   Clearly, she has much to learn of this man who is her husband. “How is it that a Sith chooses a kindhearted woman for a wife?”

 

He smiles at this question and then leers over at her like a randy teenaged boy. “Well, she was very beautiful. With enormous br—“

 

“Stop!” Shan bats his groping hands away from her chest but he just laughs and pulls her closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder. He is serious now.

 

“Because the darker the Sith, the stronger his pull to the Light. This is not unique to me. It has occurred time and again with all the great Sith. As you mature in Darkness, you feel a call to the Light. And such is my Dark mastery now, that the Force has sent me a Jedi for a wife. No ordinary woman can balance your Sith, Shan. You, my dear, are a testament to my growing power.”

 

Snoke hugs her closer. “You must unlearn your Jedi fear of attachment. The Sith have no such prohibition. In time, I hope that you will come to fully embrace our union.” He’s stroking her skin now as he speaks of the traditions of his tribe.  “Many Sith have had wives and lovers and children. Usually, the families were hidden away. To protect them from other Sith during the Rule of Two and to protect them from enemies who might wish to exploit them.  For to be Sith is to be marked for death, Shan. I myself hid my past wives for this reason.”

 

She looks up. “But not me?”

 

“Times have changed and I have changed with them. And I do so enjoy showing you off.” He smirks. “One of the pleasures of possession is to witness the envy of others. You don’t see as I do the men whose eyes follow in your wake. You don’t hear the lewd thoughts in their minds as they silently covet what is mine.” His hand trails all the way down to her bottom to squeeze. “No one fills out a dress quite like you do, Shan.”

 

She ignores this comment. Shan is still thinking about what he said about attachment. She has been thinking a lot about attachment lately. And since he brought it up, she hazards to ask tentatively, “So have you ever . . . loved?”

 

“Oh, yes, Shan. Oh, yes. We Sith are emotional creatures. Rarely are we solitary for long. For to connect with the Force through emotion tends to lead you to connect with others in the same way.”

 

Suddenly, he rolls his naked body over on top of hers. Snoke is staring down into her eyes, stroking her cheek as he imparts his secrets. “Shan, to be Sith is to live fully. We hate, but we also love. We scorn, but we desire. We rage, but we weep. We covet, but we can be satisfied. We are proud, but we can be shamed. We feel everything. We want everything.” He’s kissing her now. Open mouthed and hungry for her. Ready to go again for round two. “Let yourself feel, Shan. Be Sith.”

 

Twenty minutes later, Shan is sweaty and still panting in the afterglow as Snoke rises from bed and heads for a shower. He’s due at a meeting at his company headquarters in an hour. Sometimes, Shan forgets that Snoke has a real job in addition to his ambitions as a Sith. It’s no wonder that the man doesn’t sleep—who has the time to run a business, direct the galactic economy and topple the Republic all during working hours.

 

Shan, on the other hand, has nothing to do. And that’s becoming a bit of a problem. She is bored. Terribly bored.

 

By the time Shan is out of the shower and wrapped in a towel, Snoke is dressed and ready to leave for the day. She meets his eyes in the mirror. “Give me something to do,” she complains. “I need something to do during the day.”

 

He considers for a moment, then says, “Follow me.” Into the closet he strides to open the secret door that leads downstairs. He turns back to Shan. “I have a library downstairs. Go explore it. I will drop by to see you later and to tell you about it.” Then, he is off.

 

Shan quickly throws on clothes—his clothes borrowed again—and she’s down the stairs and into the Sith’s lair. The library is just past the training room and, oh, it looks like something out of a fairytale. Shan stands for a moment on the threshold looking in. She is utterly charmed.

 

This room is not the scientific utility of Snoke's laboratory or the bare gym aesthetic of the training room. No, this room belongs in a museum somewhere. The library is paneled in handsome dark wood that is intricately carved with symbols she vaguely recognizes from the temple on Naboo. All four walls have shelves laden with real paperbound books of various sizes and shapes. In the center is a reference table lit from above with two chairs.

 

It is a cozy place, with soft lighting and a plush rug underfoot. Inviting you to sit and to peruse the mysteries of the Sith. Looking about, Shan can't help but think that the library reminds her strongly of Snoke the man. It is very easy to picture Darth Plagueis the Wise here late at night pouring over an ancient text, musing of the Dark Force.  

 

She trails a hand tentatively down the spine of a book. Like the others, it is fragile due to age and encased in a protective cover. These are heirlooms well-loved and intended to be passed down. They are the Archives of the Sith. Here she stands alone in a repository of Darkness.   She is surrounded by all the knowledge of the enemy of the Jedi.  

 

Shan can't help but wonder why Snoke is letting her see this.

 

There is a book laying open on the table. So, of course, curious Shan has to take a peek. She sees that the book is written in Old Aurebesh. There are faded handwritten notations in the margins on the page. Long ago, some Sith had poured over this text and made it his own with scribbled notes. No doubt knowing that his input would be passed down generations as well. In this manner, the cumulative knowledge and experience of the Sith would continue. A Master would teach his Apprentice, who one day would kill him and steal the library and take his own Apprentice, and so on down the ages.

 

There are no windows here, no clock to signify the hour, and Shan has nothing to do. So time evaporates as she sits and painstakingly stumbles her way through the Old Aurebesh. Ironically enough, the open page seems to educate about the relation of the Force to time. It describes theories on how to slow time and to speed it up. And about what it means to see the past and to see the future. Someone reading this was interested in Force visions. Which makes Shan wonder if they were interested in her.

 

And maybe it is the subject matter she is translating, or just the evocative feel of this place, but Shan suddenly feels her own Force vision coming on. Hastily, she pushes away the book in time as she slumps over the tabletop. As always, she collapses physically as she concedes her consciousness to the Force. Her own physical world retreats to a distant background as the images and feelings of another place and another time rush up to her mind.

 

_She feels a great disturbance in the Force, as if millions of voices cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced. A wave of death and destruction washes over her, leaving behind the scattered debris of civilizations gone and lives lost. Something terrible has happened._

Vaguely, Shan senses someone burst into the room. She is jostled and then falling hard to the floor, her mind too lost in the Force for her body to resist. She hears a familiar snap-hiss sound and then a buzz. A heavy weight presses down hard on her cheek, pinning her to the floor. There is something very hot close to her neck.

 

“You should not be here, Jedi.”

_That's no moon. Is it a space station? A planet? Shan is not certain how to describe it other than as a weapon. It kills stars, destroys planets and drains suns in a heady rush of Darkness. And there is no preamble to the act. No deadline, no dialogue, no ultimatum. Just devastation. Whatever this is, it is now the ultimate power in the universe and someone is using it._

“Sidious, take your foot off my wife.”

 

“She should not be here! She cannot be trusted.”

 

“I will determine her limitations.”

 

“She is Jedi. She is the enemy. Master, this is a foolhardy risk!”

 

_She watches in stunned fascination as its blood red beam of energy slices through entire planets.   Red like the blade of the Sith Master's saber, red like the Force-tuned crystal she wears on her finger, red like the sword a young Jedi will fashion in a Sith temple._

“Master, you are a fool for this woman!”

 

“Learn to recognize an ally when you find one. And do not presume to lecture me on women, Sidious.”

 

“You may not love a woman more than you love power! You taught me that.”

 

“She is power, Sidious. She bled an 18,000 midichlorian count from the slash on her hand. And even now, her mind is lost in the Force. She is a true seer, and that is very rare and very useful.”

 

_She struggles to understand what this technological terror is, when it is, how it happens. But the Dark Side clouds everything. All she knows is this will be.   And that knowledge hurts._

Someone brushes dirt off her cheek and inspects her jaw. “You have burned her. You will suffer for that, Sidious.”

 

“I should have killed her.”

 

“If you kill her, I will kill you, Apprentice. Slowly. I will experiment on your midichlorians for years before finally I let you die. Heed my words.”

 

“You need me, Master.”

 

“Not as much as you think.”

 

The Force rushes out of her mind and consciousness floods the vacuum left behind. Shan comes back to the present with a jolt. She is lying on the floor. Snoke is crouched at her side, peering down at her looking concerned. Sidious stands over her, staring coldly.

 

Snoke asks quietly. “What did you see?”

 

Her voice is hushed and choked. Shan is still awed by the extent of the power she has witnessed. “A weapon that destroys planets.”

 

Snoke considers this. “Which planets?”

 

She closes her eyes to think a long moment. “In the Core. The Hosnian System. Hosnian Prime and its moons are destroyed.”

 

“Who controls the weapon?” Snoke asks.

 

Shan hesitates. Then she starts babbling information out. “The Jedi boy I saw in the temple is there. The boy making the saber like yours. Only he is a man grown. He is . . . he is . . . your Apprentice.”

 

“He already has an Apprentice,” Sidious snarls from overhead.

 

“Keep talking,” Snoke urges softly.

 

And she does. “The boy loves you. Like a son loves his father. Because you saved him. You took him in after others threw him out. You had long sought him out but then you found him quite by accident.” But this boy is human, she thinks, so he can't possibly be Snoke's actual son. This cannot be the man who she saw killing Jedi on Coruscant.  “He is like a son but not your son.” It’s not much of an explanation, but it’s all Shan knows for certain.

 

“Who controls the weapon?” This time it is Sidious asking. And he is impatient.

 

“The weapon is yours,” she directs this at Snoke. “There will be three of them, but this one is yours.”

 

“Did you see Darth Sidious?” Snoke asks quietly.

 

She thinks about this. Then, “No.”

 

“These are lies!” Sidious is angry now, evidently feeling slighted. “The Light seeks to confuse and mislead us!”

 

“Silence!” The elder Sith roars.

 

“But she seeks to sow discord between us, Master!”

 

“You have done that yourself.” Snoke’s voice is harsh. He commands, “Await me, Sidious. You will atone for your actions and for your disrespect. I see that I have been far too lenient with you. I regret now my forbearance.”

 

Shan is struggling to sit up now, still dizzy in the aftermath of the vision. And, ouch! Snoke intercepts her hand as she reaches to her neck. Something stings there.

 

“You have a slight saber burn. Nothing serious. Get a bacta patch from Milo. It will heal by tonight. Nothing will mar your beauty.”

 

Saber burn? Was that the heat she had felt? She looks over to see Sidious holding a saber hilt in his hand. Yes, apparently so. The Apprentice had held his sword to Shan’s throat when she had been at her most vulnerable.

 

She raises fearful eyes to Snoke and he reassures her. “I will discipline my Apprentice for this. You may witness, if you wish,” he offers. “It is your right.”

 

Shan immediately shakes her head no. She is certain that watching Sidious’ humiliation will only antagonize him further. Snoke’s Apprentice is very threatened by her, Shan realizes belatedly. Both by what is revealed in her visions and by her marriage to his Master. And Sidious is primed to hate her based on her Jedi status alone.

 

She has made an enemy of the Sith Apprentice. And that is a very dangerous thing.

 

Snoke helps Shan to her feet. “Go find Milo,” he tells her, then kisses her on the forehead. He leans to whisper in her ear. “I knew you would love it here as I do. I will see you tonight.”

 

Shan nods and departs. She is about to set foot on the stairs back up to the closet when she hears the first crack of Force lighting sound. She winces.   Shan remembers well that sound.


	16. Chapter 16

Over time, she and Sidious reach a detente of sorts.

 

The Republic’s business tends to keep Senator Palpatine busy in Coruscant, so the Apprentice is out of sight, out of mind most days. But when Sidious is in Muunilinst, Shan avoids going downstairs to the library. She will leave her husband and his Apprentice to their own devices.

 

Inevitably, however, their paths cross in the evening for often she and Sidious attend the same events. Before all others, Senator Palpatine is his usual polite and earnest public persona. But when she and Darth Sidious are alone, he is unabashedly nasty. His true self comes out and that's when Shan knows to have her ears open wide. And, honestly, she prefers the nasty Sith to the smooth Senator. Given she lives in a world of complex subterfuge, Shan likes to know where things really stand if she can.

 

For his part, Snoke seems to make an effort not to leave her and Sidious alone for any meaningful length of time.  

 

Tonight Sidious is doing his usual monologue of spite as they stand together observing the thinning crowd at a charity reception. Shan doesn't engage when Sidious does this. She isn’t one to provoke or stoke a conflict.   She just listens.

 

"Don't get too comfortable, Madame.   He will tire of you soon enough. And then he will send you away to one of his country villas. He shuffled the last wife around his villas all the time. When she got bored, he would buy her a new one and set her to work redecorating it. It kept her busy and out of his life.   You will be no different. It is only a matter of time."

 

Shan says nothing.

 

“And then you will have left the Jedi Order for nothing. You might have had a life of significance but instead you will live an aimless life of exile alone in luxury. And you can't complain because then he might kill you like he did the third wife.   Of course, he may kill you anyway once he meets a younger, prettier, slimmer version of you in a few years. Yes, Shan, you have thrown your life away for nothing.”

 

Again, Shan says nothing.

 

Perhaps he’s frustrated that Shan does not respond. For Sidious now asks a direct question. “How does it feel to be a disgraced Jedi?”

 

And this does provoke her reaction. “I am not disgraced. The Jedi think I'm dead.   They know nothing of this marriage.”

 

“Ah, yes, you are correct. There is still the outside chance that you could resurrect yourself to them. That next time you are in Coruscant you could march into the Jedi temple and announce yourself alive. You would just need to slap a bacta patch on your palm a few hours ahead of time and concoct some story and then you would be safe and welcomed back into the open arms of the Jedi Order. And Shan Damask would become the dead woman then and no one would be the wiser. Yes, that might actually work were you brave enough to pull it off. But we both know that you’re not.”

 

Sidious keeps going with his scenario. “And my Master is no trusting fool. He will never take you to Coruscant. For it would be far too easy for you to escape there. Far too easy. And then you would get your whole life back and no one might be the wiser that you have spent months sleeping with a Sith. I wonder if my Master would let you live if you kept our secrets. Yes . . . he might. But it doesn’t matter because you are too timid to escape.”

 

Shan shifts her stance. She is doing her best to stop thinking about the Jedi Order. She tells herself that part of her life is over now and she’s working hard to put it behind her. Snoke seems to understand, but Sidious loves to throw her Jedi past in her face every chance he gets.

 

“Tell me, what do the Jedi teach about the Sith?   Is it only that we are extinct or do they teach something about who we really are? Do they teach you the truth?   Do you know that there is no truth for Sith?  That you can never trust a Sith? No matter what we tell you, no matter what we promise, we always betray you in the end. So all those future plans, those tender endearments, any sweet promises of love . . . they are all lies. Yes, never trust a Sith, Madame. Especially a Sith Master.   For Darth Plagueis has elevated lies to an art form.”

 

Shan has heard enough of Sidious’ venom for one night. "I see the Ambassador from Chandrila is here tonight. I really should go and say hello. Good night, Senator Palpatine."

 

Later that evening, Senator Lesser's wife invites Shan to lunch. Snoke surprises Shan by granting permission. There is an IGBC thug stationed at each exit for the restaurant and one a few feet from their table, but all in all, the security presence is pretty unobtrusive     Shan can’t decide if that is because Snoke thinks there is less danger at the small intimate restaurant they choose or whether he trusts Shan more. Maybe a little of both.

 

The Senator's wife is called Vanata and she's about ten years older than Shan. Vanata is everything you might expect of a wife to a Senator. She is pretty, well dressed and socially polished.   And in the course of their rambling two-hour tête-à-tête over lunch, Shan learns that she is terribly unhappy. It only takes about half an hour of small talk and pleasantries before Vanata is telling Shan about the pregnant mistress.

 

I shouldn't be telling you this since you are a newlywed, Vanata keeps saying before she divulges more uncomfortable details. But you are so easy to talk to, Shan. I knew I would like you when I met you because you have such a kind face. And you too are married to a powerful man, so you know that there will be many women available to your husband.   All marriages grow stale over time, Shan. Watch out that Hego doesn't get tired of you. Then he will get a mistress and she'll get pregnant and then you will be me. Now Vanata starts to cry and Shan is scooting over her chair to console her.

 

Shan steers the conversation to fashion, hoping to cheer her up. It works. When it comes time to part ways, the Senator’s wife wants to go shopping together the next time Shan is in Coruscant.   Shan just nods and smiles.   She doubts that she is ever going to Coruscant.

 

Her first outing on her own and her first chance at a friend ought to have Shan feeling upbeat. But truly, the whole experience is a downer. And it gets Shan ruminating more about her own life.

 

Marriage is not something Shan ever saw while growing up. She doesn't really know what is normal in this type of relationship. And the social norms of the Muun upperclass are far more patriarchal and conservative than the egalitarian world of the Jedi. In the Jedi world in which women do not form attachments, there are no husbands to please, no children to manage and care for, no elderly parents to look after. And so Jedi women's lives focus mainly on their own pursuits.  And that must be why the Jedi have many more women prominent in their own right than Shan sees among the Muuns. Attachments, Shan observes, can really clip your wings if you are a woman.

 

Sitting across from the Senator's wife at lunch, Shan realizes that outwardly their lives are not that different. Vanata too has a bodyguard stationed across the room. And she, like Shan, will wander through a party tonight in an expensive dress and smile for the cameras. If Shan had never grown up with the Jedi, she might be considered lucky if she ended up in a life not too different from her own. Only her husband probably would be just a banker and not a Sith lord too.

 

What if she had never been a Jedi? Would Shan have been happy with a life like this? She wonders. Jedi girls don’t grow up reading princess stories and dreaming of happily ever after. Little girl padawans are told tales of duty and service, of heroism and sacrifice. And the Jedi disdain the life of luxury that surrounds Shan. Credits wasted on things like fashion and fine food would be considered self-indulgent. Shameful even. So many of the enjoyments of Shan’s new life befuddle her. She knows that a lot of women would appreciate them, but Shan isn’t certain if she does. Or if she should.

 

When Snoke asks her about the lunch that night, she dutifully provides a full report. Snoke seems pleased. Getting someone to confess their concerns and desires is a talent, he tells her, and it's worth cultivating. Once you know what motivates someone, you can control them.  

 

She turns to Snoke. “What do you think motivates me?”

 

“Is this a quiz?” he counters, giving her a laughing look. “What do women want, Shan? Tell me, please. In all my years, rarely have I guessed correctly. Men are so much easier to understand. Our desires are rarely hidden and almost never in contradiction. We want what we want and we do not justify it. We do not fear to ask for it. We men are simple creatures, easy to figure out, simple to manipulate. But women . . . women are far more complex.” He shoots her a serious look. “If women controlled the Republic, I would never even try to topple it. I would admit defeat straight away.”

 

Shan puts a hand on her hip and frowns at him on behalf of women everywhere. But Snoke warms to his theme.

 

“Yes, men are supposed to guess what women want. And what you want today is probably not what you wanted yesterday. For you keep us on our toes being fickle. Often passive and yet aggressive all the same. You control us men much more than you know.”

 

“No one controls you,” Shan mutters.

 

He grins in his sly way. “You do, Shan. You control me.” Now that sly grins turns devilishly sexy. And his dark eyes are snapping at her as he flirts. “Will you control me? Please?”

 

And, how can she say no to that? Seconds later, Shan is dragging him down the hall to the bedroom and, yes, she takes control.

 

Afterwards, they are entangled naked together on the bed. Vanata Lesser and Sidous are still on Shan’s mind.  So she snuggles down into Snoke and asks plainly, “What will happen when you grow tired of me?”

 

“I will never grow tired of you or of your Light. Shan, you are one in a billion. I am never letting you go.”

 

And Shan can't decide if that is a good answer or not. She keeps struggling to makes sense of what it means for her to never again be a Jedi.     It is as if the first thirty odd years of her life have no meaning now. Snoke is right that it was a life full of limitations and rules. But in some ways, her Jedi life had many more freedoms than she has today as Shan Damask.   It occurs to her that she has simply exchanged one set of restrictions for another.

 

Day to day, Shan vacillates between getting comfortable with her life with Snoke and resenting it. After a lot of soul searching, Shan begins to pinpoint the problem. It’s not that she is miserable now, but that she fears she will be soon.

 

For the Sith plots a future for them that Shan affirmatively does not want. Not the political domination or the Jedi murdering Sith son. So Shan has a nagging feeling that right now is the best things might ever be for her and Snoke. Because it is all downhill from here. She and Snoke have very real conflicts, which he chooses to ignore and she fears to raise.   But those conflicts will ripen fast if she has a child.

 

And so, with much trepidation, she blurts it out one evening during the shuttle ride home. “I don’t want to have a child.”

 

“Why not?” With Snoke, there always has to be a reason.

 

Shan looks down at her hands. “It’s not the right time. We haven’t been married long enough. And . . . well . . . I’m still getting used to things.” Meaning that she’s still getting used to him.

 

Snoke is quiet a long moment. It’s an awkward silence. And suddenly Shan is babbling to fill it.   “I’m not ready for the responsibility . . . for the attachment.” She cringes as the Jedi term inadvertently slips out.

 

“You are afraid then?”

 

“Yes.” Shan might as well admit this. She is afraid of how a child will change things between them for the worse, afraid of the monster their child might become, afraid of what it will mean to be a mother, afraid that she’ll be a bad mother since she never had one of her own. And somewhere deep down, Shan is afraid that she will never be welcomed back as a Jedi once she has had a child.

 

When Snoke finally speaks, his words unfold slowly. His tone is warning. “Do not try to subvert the will of the Force, Shan. It is a mistake to attempt to alter destiny.   You will not succeed.”

 

Whoa—wait a minute. She’s talking about delaying a baby and he’s gotten all the way to destiny? She wants birth control and he’s talking about the Force?

 

“But Snoke—“

 

“Listen.” He cuts her off, which is something he never does. “If I teach you nothing else about the Force, let me teach you this. Trying to change destiny only ends in tragedy, Shan. Trust me.”

 

Shan frowns at this. “You are telling me not to alter destiny? You who spend your days plotting the future? You, the man who claims that control is what he does?” She scoffs at his reasoning, annoyed by his pompousness.   “Stop justifying what you want with destiny,” she complains.

 

“Even I recognize the limits of what I can control. The universe is a delicate balance, Shan. The Force will let me control many things, but it also demands that I submit to its will.   I respect the Force enough to accept destiny. You should too, Jedi.” He eyes her steadily now. “My library is full of warnings to this effect. Testimonies from Sith who raged against fate and paid a horrible price for it.”

 

Snoke has that obnoxious, condescending tone he always gets when he speaks of the Force. But she’s his wife not his Apprentice, and having a baby ought to be a joint decision. He shouldn’t be lecturing her into it.

 

“This is not destiny, this is you! The Force did not bring us together. You are the one who kidnapped me and trapped me into this life and this marriage.”

 

“Are you still unhappy, Shan?”

 

His question catches her off guard.

 

She dodges it. “I will be unhappy if I have some murderous Sith son.”

 

“What do you want then?” Is he really asking her that? Now, she’s really caught off guard.

 

“I don’t want to get pregnant,” she decides.

 

“Ever?”

 

She nods yes. “There are ways—“

 

“No.” He interrupts again. This time she can tell that he is angry. “I will not be complicit as you run from fate. You had a vision of a future that you did not like and now you are trying to change it. You will only tempt the Force to strike back at you. Back at us.”  His eyes narrow. “I have worked too long and too hard to risk this for you.”

 

Of course, he doesn’t want to jeopardize his grand plans for war. “Then I won't sleep with you!” Shan snaps at him.

 

“Is that truly what you want?” he asks, squinting at her.

 

“Yes.” Er . . . not really. But under the circumstances, it’s the only way she’s sure not to get pregnant.

 

He nods slowly. “Then I will honor your wish.”

 

“You will?” This slips out involuntarily.

 

Snoke is offended at this. He snarls, “Shan, I have never forced a woman in my life and I don't plan to start with you. You may sleep alone until you reconsider.”

 

“I won’t change my mind,” she warns him.

 

“Never say never, wife,” he grinds out in frustration. He shoots her a look. “I have faith that the Force will give me a Sith son. And I have faith in us.” The shuttle has landed now and the ramp is deploying. He stands to offer her his hand. Even in anger, he is unfailingly gallant. “Until then, I will miss you in my arms.”


	17. Chapter 17

Shan lived life as a celibate Jedi for thirty-two years without complaint. And she easily kept Snoke at arm’s length for weeks when the Sith first stole her. So Shan figures that her request for abstinence in their marriage shouldn't be too hard from her perspective.

 

She is wrong. Shan soon learns that she has way underestimated what she has given up.  

 

For that very night, she starts dreaming of Snoke again. This time the dreams are everyday intimacies that escalate fast and spiral out of control. These are harmless, wholesome little fantasies of things that might actually occur. Only now they won’t.

 

He's talking to her from the shower and Shan can’t hear over the water so she barges in and soon their wet, slick bodies are sliding against one another. Or they are eating dinner when she pushes the dishes away.   Then she's laying back on the table as he pours the remains of his glass over her bare chest and begins to lick the wine from her breasts. Now she's caught in the act of yet again pilfering his clothes when he bounds up the closet stairway dripping with sweat from a vigorous saber workout. He brushes past her and the glancing touch ignites a spark. Soon they are on the floor of the closet laughing as they tumble around amidst the shoes.

 

These are the impulsive, silly moments newlyweds might actually do if the wife had not gone on a sex strike. The sort of real world escapades that years later they might laugh about together. But for Shan, they are relegated to dreamy fantasies that wake her hot and sweaty and panting for more.  

 

Usually she wakes to find Snoke beside her meditating with the ghost of a smile on his lips. It is distracting to have him so near. And so naked. But this is what she wanted so Shan clears her mind and tries to think of something else. Anything else.

 

Just when a few days have gone by and she thinks it's tolerable, the wretched man starts flirting with her with the Force again at parties. Shan is deep in conversation when she feels a sharp pinch on her bottom. Reflexively, she whirls around. There is no one within three meters of her.   And Snoke is even farther away. Shan shoots him a glare and he winks.

 

The next night when she's trying to hold a conversation with one of the grande dames of Muunilinst society, Shan feels Snoke’s phantom hands on her chest and then it's his greedy lips too. Shan feels her face flush and abruptly she loses her train of thought. She excuses herself for the ladies’ room because she needs to splash some water on her face.

 

Later when finally she and Snoke are in the privacy of the apartment, Shan unleashes on him. "Just what do you think you were doing tonight?" she demands hotly.

 

"You said that I couldn’t get under your skirt, Shan. You did not say that I couldn’t get in your head." Snoke is irritatingly smug. He looks like he’s enjoying how riled up she is.

 

"I'm altering the deal."

 

Snoke just laughs. And that's even more irritating. She stalks into the closet and begins to peel off her gown. The stupid zipper sticks and now he's flicking his finger to slide it down with the Force and telling her that this is how it all began for them. But that's not a memory Shan wants to revisit right now. She scowls at the Sith and tells him to stop looking at her.

 

“First, I cannot touch you. Then I cannot think about you. And now I cannot even look at you.   Shan, you are so cruel." He smirks.  “How you control me.”

 

Yes, he probably likes that, Shan realizes with a start. This man isn’t used to having limitations of any kind. She jams her nightgown over her head and marches past him and out the bedroom door.

 

"Where are you going?" He looks amused.

 

"I'm sleeping someplace else tonight."

 

“Separate bedrooms already? We are newlyweds. Old Milo will be scandalized.”

 

She thinks not since the Sith's manservant knows that she is no blushing bride.

 

Snoke is enjoying himself immensely now. “You made your proverbial bed and now you are going to lie in it. Next to me.” He beckons to her. “Now, come back, Shan. I have something to ask you.”

 

“What?” She is exasperated.

 

“Come closer and I will tell you.” And curious girl that she is, Shan complies and steps back into the bedroom. But she’s still scowling at him.

 

“Yes?”

 

He surprises her. “Will you come to Coruscant with me next week? I need a hostess for the IGBC receptions. You will enjoy it.” He adds an inducement as an afterthought, “You may go shopping with Lesser's wife while we are there, if you wish.”

 

“Coruscant?” Had she heard him correctly? Shan could care less about shopping, but Corsucant! The galaxy’s capital is as much home to her as Naboo is, since Shan had once spent time there as a student at the university. And Coruscant would have been her home now had the Sith not taken her in the temple.

 

“Yes.” His eyes gleam at her reaction. “I have been summoned to the Republic's corridors of power. Where I buy and sell Senators like I might manage a stock portfolio. I am scheduled to testify before the Senate Banking Committee next week for the usual IGBC quarterly update.”

 

“Coruscant,” she repeats.

He nods. “The world of the Eternal City. It is the aim of all Sith. And it is your future home, my dear.”

 

And the home of the Jedi, she thinks silently.

 

“Will you go?” he asks.

 

“Yes.”

 

Thankfully, their life together is not all bickering over sex. Outside of that topic, she and Snoke have a good rapport. When Shan lets herself forget who Snoke is and what he wants to do, they have things in common. And now, they have a project in common. For once Shan asks Snoke to show her his library, what starts as an overview becomes an ongoing endeavor.

 

She learns that there is a fascinating, sometimes lurid history to Snoke's collection. Shan hears about books that were reclaimed from Sith temples, books that were discovered in museums and private collections, and books that he claimed from his dead master. For some of these tomes, he can identify the original Sith author. For others, he even can identify the author of the handwritten margin notes.  But most of the volumes have a provenance lost to time.

 

Snoke is animated as he describes it all, responding to her obvious enthusiasm. He doesn't get very far in the retelling before Shan stops him. “Wait, let me get a datapad,” she interrupts. “I want to get this all down.”   Someone should get this all down because the history of the library is at least as interesting as the contents of the books themselves.

 

As Snoke shows her the books, Shan begins to appreciate how fragile many of the ancient volumes are.  And how precarious the whole collection is given the Rule of Two history of the Sith. It is amazing that even this many volumes have survived given the murderous cycle that precipitates a change in ownership.

 

Standing there amidst the archives of the Sith, Shan decides, "You should scan these. All of them. By hand, not by a droid. The pages are too fragile to trust to a droid."   She is getting excited now just speaking of it. "Yes, you should scan them and then translate them. You cannot safeguard this knowledge with a single copy owned by one person. It's too big a risk. I saw this city destroyed, remember?” Shan looks to the Sith for his permission. “Snoke, these books should be preserved. You steward this library now but someday it will pass on to another Sith, right?"

 

“Wrong. I shall live forever in the Force, Shan.” He announces this solemnly as a fait accompli. “These books always will be mine.”

 

Shan looks the Sith in the eye. “Unless one day perhaps they belong to your Sith son.”

 

He nods slowly, watching her closely. “Then will you do it, Shan? Will you help to preserve my library?”

 

She opens her mouth to agree but hesitates. Wait--should she be doing this?

 

He sees her unease and seeks to reassure her. “It is powerful knowledge, Shan, but I will not ask you to practice any of it.   It has never been my aim to bring you to the Dark Side. I will not risk your Light.”

 

But they both know it’s more than that. Yes, this Dark Side knowledge is dangerous, but not just to her. To everyone in the galaxy. Which is why any loyal Jedi would seek to destroy this library rather than to preserve it. “Snoke, I'm a Jedi—“

 

“Was a Jedi,” he corrects. Then raises a hand to forestall her objection. “Shan, the Force is the Force. The Jedi and the Sith connect with it in different ways and use it for different purposes, but it is all the same Force. The Dark and the Light are convenient fictions we use to draw distinctions in ideology. In methodology. Look past the artificial constructs of Jedi dogma. See that this is knowledge of the Force. For that reason alone, it bears preserving.”

 

Shan thinks a long moment. But for the subject matter, this is the perfect project for her. A big meaty task to sink her teeth into. And she can do it on her own time and from her own home without IGBC thugs surrounding her.   Best of all, this will be meaningful work. It will never be known by more than a select few, but it will matter.  And that’s part of what Shan has been missing from her Jedi work—the feeling that what she is and what she does matters.

 

“Okay,” she nods. “I’ll do it.”

 

Shan throws herself into her task with enthusiasm. It’s almost as if she has to make up for the many boring days she has spent up until now. She becomes a bit reluctant to leave for Coruscant because it will take her away from the library. She confesses this to Snoke and he reminds her that the books are centuries old. They have waited this long, he tells her, they can wait a week longer.   He’s right, of course.

 

At Snoke’s urging, Shan approaches the work without fear. She treats the library as a field of study like any other. She reminds herself that you don’t fear illness or injury just because you read a medical textbook. Just like you don’t become a serial killer just because you watch a scary holovid. Shan resolves to look past the taint of the Sith that surrounds this knowledge. Because the Force is the Force, as Snoke says.

 

As Shan slowly pages through a book to scan, she stops to translate here and there and catches impressions of the text. The topics are varied and fascinating. There are Sith charms and curses that would seem downright quaint were it not for the numerous margin notations testifying to their effectiveness. And there are techniques for assassination, maps of temples, sketches for armor, and something that looks like a genealogy chart of men whose names all begin with Darth. Yes, tucked away in this library is the stealth culture of Darkness. It has its own ideals, heroes and history, much like the Jedi. And like the Sith temple on Naboo, curiosity draws her in.   Shan has so many questions.

 

“What makes a great Sith?” she asks Snoke the next afternoon when he wanders into the library. “What will get your name on the temple wall?”

 

“Great power,” he answers patiently. Shan is starting to see that her husband loves to teach the Force. “Power is expressed in different ways. Some Sith were great because they expanded the knowledge of the Dark Force. Some Sith were great because they amassed dominion over others. And some ancient Sith were great because they were cunning and lethal warriors in combat.”  

 

“I am a great Sith because I have discovered the secrets to life everlasting.   And one day, when I control the galaxy, I will be the greatest of all Sith. For I will control it all, and I will control it all forever.”

 

She digests this information. She has heard it all before but finally this promised future is starting to sink in. Because Snoke’s boast no longer sounds like grandiose puffery. It sounds possible. And from what she has seen of Darth Plagueis and Darth Sidious, it is starting to seem almost probable.

 

Where does this leave her, she wonders? She is the fifth wife, probably one of a long list of women to come.  

 

The secret Sith steps closer to her chair, lifting her chin with his finger. "When I win the galaxy, will you share it with me?” Snoke is staring deep in her eyes and she catches the flicker of yellow in his. “Would you like forever, my dear? Give me my Sith son and I will give you forever."

 

He leans in now and kisses her. And she is so distracted by his words that she doesn't even think to turn away. It is a soft kiss, gentle and slow. And after nearly a week without his physical touch, it burns through her and something deep within Shan twists with longing. "Think about it," he requests.

 

The day before they are scheduled to leave, Shan begins scanning the first volume she has seen written in standard Basic.   It must have been authored by a modern Sith. Shan pokes around a bit because it is much easier to skim the contents when there is no translation involved. And that's when she stumbles upon detailed descriptions for three methods to cloak your imprint in the Force.  

 

Shan smiles, recalling how during that first tense dinner here with Snoke he had described this as the first lesson in being Sith.   Maybe something like the Jedi Code the smallest younglings learn to recite, Shan thinks. A new initiate’s first steps into the larger world of the Force.

 

So she starts reading. And then she reads it all again. And then a third time. She commits the Sith trickery to memory. For it occurs to Shan that this might be very useful knowledge for a woman in her position.


	18. Chapter 18

Traveling with Hego Damask to the galactic capital world is nothing like Shan’s past experience as a Jedi taking a public transport. Snoke flies private in his own luxe cruiser that has every amenity you might need for a two-week journey to the Unknown Regions instead of just the eighteen-hour trip to Coruscant. His cruiser doesn’t land at the enormous bustling spaceport for the usual hour wait to check through customs and security. No, Hego Damask has private landing clearance at the Galactic Senate’s landing platform. And, as usual, Chairman Damask and his retinue are greeted with the elaborate pomp and ceremony that seem to cling to her husband as his due.   A twenty-man honor guard awaits their arrival along with an assembly of Senators. Security is a pro forma matter completed in seconds onsite as Milo confers with a special Senatorial customs officer.

 

It is all very exclusive and efficient. Such is the privilege of galaxy’s lead financier. For everyone knows that this man’s time is money. Literally.

 

Shan is among the last down the cruiser’s ramp and she hangs back from the formal welcoming. She watches as Snoke departs immediately for pre-meetings at the legislature with the honor guard marching in step around him and a trail of eager IGBC support staff bringing up the rear.

 

At Milo’s insistence, Shan is dressed to the nines, finally donning the chic daywear that has hung in her closet unwrapped for months now. She’s got a great deal of it with her since as far as Shan can tell, her role on Coruscant is to appear fashionable during the day and to act as hostess at night. Milo has warned her that the Coruscant press will be covering Snoke’s visit closely, both the serious business and financial news outlets and the fluffy gossip media sites. In other words, Madame Damask needs to be prepared for lots of photographs and lots of scrutiny.

 

She, Milo and the Muunilinst security detail depart by private transport for Snoke's Coruscant apartment. San Hill is with them. Shan hasn’t seen Hill in ages and she is delighted to reunite with her friend. Security is paramount for these trips, Hill tells her _soto voce_. All three of the attempts on the Chairman’s life have occurred here on Coruscant. So it’s strictly the A-list security detail for the next week. And, apparently, that includes Hill.

 

Snoke’s Coruscant apartment is on the Upper Level, of course, amid the priciest real estate in the galaxy. No doubt because nothing is too good for Hego Damask and because her husband likes to project all the impressive power his wealth commands.   The apartment is huge. Easily twice the size of the Muunilinst abode, but with very few bedrooms. Inside it is far more glamorous than their home, with sleek, sexy furnishings in muted colors. The decor reflects the practiced eye of a professional decorator and not the true taste of the owner, Shan sees.  It is a space designed for entertaining, and not a home.

 

Milo confirms this conclusion, telling Shan that they will be hosting a large reception each evening they are in town.   The IGBC upper management will turn out in full force to lobby the Galactic Senate, which Shan knows is the perfect cover for Snoke’s private designs for war.  Her Sith is taking this week in Coruscant very seriously, which means he thinks there is a great deal of substance underneath the veneer of schmooze, pomp and glamour.

 

Sure enough, catering staff appears at the apartment an hour later and Milo takes charge. Her job is simply to relax, to familiarize herself with tonight's guest list, and to submit to the half a dozen dressers who arrive to beautify her.   By now, Shan is used to her arm candy role and gracefully she submits. She has begun to think of evening gowns as the uniform of Madame Damask. Yes, she enjoys the lovely fabrics and inspired design but Shan doesn't take it too seriously.   High fashion is among the expected trappings of her station in life, and not an end unto itself. How these fashion types would groan if they knew that at home, Shan most often wears Snoke’s oldest t-shirts.

 

There is strategy lurking underneath this glitz. Shan has come to realize that her ostensibly decorative role fools many into divulging all sorts of useful tidbits of information. Especially since she finds that people she meets try to impress her by disclosing information. Who they know, where they have been, where they might be going next.   All of which, she dutifully passes on to Snoke.

 

Does this mean that she has joined Team Sith?   Shan doesn't think of it that way. She gathers facts that people willingly divulge and lets Snoke connect the dots. Shan does not know the details of his manipulations, nor does she care to.

 

Hours later, Shan is standing in a dark red gown that is severe in its simplicity other than a very low cut keyhole neckline. Her lips are painted as red as the dress. Shan takes her position to the left of her husband in the receiving line and the nightly blur of strange names and faces begins.

 

Coruscant society centers around the Republic government and its members reflect the wide mix of species from across the galaxy.   Tonight’s reception is far more diverse than the events Shan has attended on Muunilinst, and that alone makes for great people watching. Never before has Shan seen so many guests with their own protocol droid in tow for translation. Soon, the air is a muddle of standard Basic and other languages. The crowd itself is a mix of Senators, Ambassadors, Envoys and Judges—everyone seems to have an official title as a prefix.   And Hego Damask appears to know them all. Which is an impressive feat given that there are two hundred guests this evening.

 

The next night there are another two hundred-odd guests. And the next night, and the next. All of Coruscant seems to walk through their doors those first four nights. And they linger. Back on Muunilinst, parties rarely ran late.   But here on Coruscant, the crowd is still thick and buzzing at the time Shan usually is in bed.   The alcohol keeps flowing and the conversations get looser and louder and everyone is having a great time. No one more so than Chairman Damask, who is surrounded by a thicket of admirers angling for his attention.

 

Left to her own devices, Shan just floats through the rooms meeting and greeting people. She actually only knows a handful of guests each night other than the Banking Clan executives from Muunilinst and the Apprentice. Shan does her best to ignore Senator Palpatine.   Here in Coruscant there is no need to invent excuses for his attendance nightly at the progression of receptions. Darth Sidious fairly haunts the Coruscant apartment and every time she turns around the man seems to be there. It is clear that he has been to this apartment many times before and he is very comfortable making himself at home and ordering Milo about. When Shan complains to Milo about this, the old retainer just shrugs. I serve the Sith, Milo tells her gravely. He is my Master's Apprentice, and one day I may serve him too. Shan thinks this to be an odd remark for a human so up in years, but she says nothing. Plus, Darth Plagueis plans to live forever, right?

 

Partying late into the night on Coruscant ought to be fun, but it’s not. For Shan’s vision of the faceless Sith marching into the Jedi temple reoccurs twice. Each time during the day when Snoke is from home. Shan doesn't tell him, but it upsets her greatly. And it stays on her mind.

 

For each time the vision appears, it is a nightmarish scene of blood and death.   The Sith killer still remains shrouded in mystery but his victims take on vivid life.   And now, the victims include her Master Nu. Her mentor’s hair has gone completely white in the vision but her distinctive tunic and long skirt are still the same. The wise Jedi scholar is cut down as she stands before the holochron vault, making a last stand to guard the Order's most precious treasure.

 

It is painful to witness Master Nu's heroic passing. For her mentor’s fading blue eyes accuse Shan. Seeming to condemn Shan for all of her transgressions. The wanton sex, the secret marriage, the shameless luxury, the information passed and collected, the hours spent preserving the library of Dark power.  You are complicit, the old woman gasps out as her dying words. For shame.

 

Complicit. The word is deeply unsettling.

 

The second time the vision recurs, Shan’s mind focuses not on her master but on the many child martyrs who fall to the Sith’s sword. These younglings do not have weapons drawn, they pose no threat.   These smallest of Jedi cower in the High Council chamber as they have evidently been instructed by someone. There they wait, obedient to the end like a young Shan might have been, little earnest lambs to the slaughter when the flash of blue comes down. It is horrifying to watch these pitiful children massacred by a man who is little more than a boy himself. Shan’s heart aches for the doomed Jedi children and for this Sith man-child who she desperately hopes is not her own.

 

Is this what will happen once Snoke’s plotting at parties comes to fruition?   Is her husband a monster too like this shadowy boy?   Yes and yes. This insight is clear in the Force.   And the warning of Darth Sidious flashes up to her mind: Never trust a Sith. The words are an ironic truth that Shan does not want to believe. Because she is trapped with Snoke. Trapped for life and now he is threatening to trap her forever.

 

Shan's conscience has chosen to reassert itself here in Coruscant.  She thinks she knows why.

 

That first night, Senator Palapatine makes a show of pointing out to guests in her presence the glorious view from the apartment balcony.   To the left is the stately Republic Senate building lit up for the evening. And to the right is the Coruscant Jedi temple with its soaring spires reaching high into the night sky. Shan can’t tear her eyes away from the Jedi temple. Never has she seen it from this vantage point.

 

It looks beautiful. And oh so close.

 

Each night Shan finds a reason to wander onto the balcony to look her fill, taking covert peeks over the shoulder of some guest she speaks to. Shan knows that her Sith probably bought this apartment for that view. So that Snoke can look to his left and then look to his right and see the institutions of power he plans to undermine.   Only she and Sidious understand the significance of the sight.

 

By the fifth night, Shan is feeling increasingly troubled. It’s very late, the party has finally thinned out and she's on her third glass of champagne when Sidious comes up at her shoulder.

 

“So close and yet so far,” he observes and they both know what he’s referring to. “Do you miss it?”

 

“Yes, sometimes,” she confesses softly. Shan instantly regrets her candor. Showing weakness to Darth Sidious is an invitation for his scorn. But with the third glass of champagne almost gone, Shan’s inhibitions are lowered. She is not as careful as she should be.

 

“I thought so,” comes his reply. The censure drips from his lips. “It is only natural. They raised you, they taught you and they trusted you.”

 

Shan says nothing. She regrets ever encouraging conversation with this awful man.

 

“I met your Master Nu back on Naboo,” Sidious discloses, watching her closely for her reaction. “She was the one who gave me the information about your parents.” The Apprentice glances sideways over at Shan.  “Plagueis says that not once have you asked about your real family.   That you are not at all curious about your background. I thought that a strange reaction for a girl curious enough to barge into a Sith temple. But, really, that stands to reason. For of course you don’t want to know about your real family. Because you are still a Jedi at heart, aren't you?”

 

Shan says nothing. She just finishes her champagne.  She rarely drinks at parties, but tonight she is making an exception. Maybe if she drinks enough, she will feel better.

 

“They probably miss you.   I know that your Master Nu missed you. How relieved she might be to know that you still live.”

 

“Go away, Senator.” The liquor has made her bold and blunt. Shan doesn’t want to hear any more.

 

“As you wish.” Sidious retreats and she can feel the smile on his face. How he loves to get under her skin. She shouldn’t let him, but sometimes she can’t help it.

 

Shan is still standing on the balcony gazing out at the Jedi temple when the party is over and Snoke finds her. He hands her another glass of champagne. She raises an eyebrow but takes it. And drinks it.

 

“Is everyone gone?”

 

“All but Sidious here.” Snoke gestures to his Apprentice who has appeared at his Master’s side.

 

Shan’s gaze flits over Sidious coldly. She wishes this man would just go away. “Send him home,” she decrees with an autocratic tone that belongs more to a Hutt than to Shan. Then she turns back to again look out upon Coruscant.

 

Snoke nods to his Apprentice and Sidious departs. Then Snoke turns back to her, stepping up alongside her. He reaches a hand across her waist and leans in close.

 

“What is the matter, my dear?”

 

No doubt he senses how pensive she is. Four glasses of champagne have not succeeded in taking the edge off Shan’s strain.   The alcohol has only made her feel reckless and slightly unsteady in her high heels.

 

“Tell me,” he urges. His lips are close to her neck now and she closes her eyes. “You can tell me,” he purrs. She can smell the wine on his breath as well as her own. Knowing Snoke, he has far outpaced her four glasses, but as usual the big Muun shows none of the effects.

 

“Snoke, I—“ she falters, uncertain how to put into words what she needs right now. Because Shan can’t take her eyes off the Jedi temple tonight and she’s thinking things she knows she shouldn’t be. And so Shan needs him to stop her. To scare her so she won’t do anything stupid and end up dead.

 

“Tell me.” The suggestion burrows deep into her tipsy mind and she comes out with it.

 

“I need to feel your power,” she says softly, still staring out at the temple with undisguised longing. “Show me your Darkness.”  

 

He steps up close behind now, lifting the empty glass from her hand to set it aside.   “Ask me again, Shan.” His lips are at her ear and his hands are on her waist. And oh, gods! Just once, he grinds into her. It sends a shiver of desire through her and, yes, she’s feeling reckless. “If this is what you want, then ask me properly.”

 

She hears his words in her mind and by rote she repeats her own slightly slurred version. “Darth Plagueis, I wish to submit to my Sith.”

 

Five minutes later, the apartment is empty of catering staff, Milo has vanished and Snoke has her gown pushed up and her panties are at her ankles.   He is taking her from behind as she bends over to grasp onto the balcony railing for dear life.   His Dark power swirls around them in the Force, at once menacing and inviting. For that is the trickery of the Sith. You fear them, but they draw you in all the same. For there is a heady romance to their daring ambitions, a sexy lure to their constant control, and a breathless thrill from surviving their threat.

 

All concerns for a possible pregnancy have fled Shan’s mind, giving way to her need. She needs to feel his power to be reminded that there is no escape from her Sith. So she will not be tempted to do anything foolish. She needs to feel this closeness to him. So she will be reminded of the connection that comes from this pleasure. And she needs him physically. Two weeks is too long without him.

 

“I am your Sith,” he tells her with a deep, hard thrust that makes her gasp. “You are mine and you will always be mine.” He is possessive and dominant, like she wants tonight.

 

Yes, her husband understands.   He knows of her confusion and fears dredged up by the vision and by the proximity of the temple. “Harder,” she urges him on. Wanting him to banish all doubts in a twisted haze of Dark pleasure.   This is what she wants—to have her powerful Sith Master husband rule her tonight. She can’t beat him, so tonight she will join him in a desperate attempt to banish her guilt.

 

He doesn't want to hurt her, she hears in her mind. Just fuck me, the thought slips out. Shut up and fuck me, Sith.

 

And he likes that. “Say it out loud,” he growls.

 

“Fuck me, Darth Plagueis.”

 

“Louder.”

 

And now she’s screaming the secret Sith’s name out into the Corsucant night. Can they hear her at the temple? In the Senate? Do they know the name of the man who will come for them, for each and every one of them? For once more, the Sith shall rule the galaxy.

 

“My dear, how I have missed you,” he tells her afterwards as he holds her encircled in his arms. She is standing, but collapsed onto him all the same. “And you were right to ask for my help. If ever again you need to remember your place, come to me. I never want to discipline you, Shan. I only ever want to care for you. Let me help you be loyal.”  

 

Shan nods weakly.

 

He drops a kiss on her damp forehead. “I knew that you would reconsider. That you would submit to my will and to the will of the Force. Now everything will proceed as you have foreseen.”  


	19. Chapter 19

“Are you alright, my dear?”

 

Snoke looks up from his datapad as she enters the dining room. Snoke is already finishing breakfast, Milo stands at his post in the corner and San Hill stands at the credenza pouring himself more caf.

 

Is she alright? Not really. Shan is feeling very hungover. “Too much champagne last night,” she grumbles.

 

“Then here is what you need.” San Hill pours her caf and sets the mug down before her on the table. "Strong black caf."  Hill gives her an understanding look. "Been there myself a time or two. That last glass is always a mistake."

 

"Not always," Snoke catches her eye as he speaks. Shan blushes and looks down. When she looks back up, the Sith is still considering her thoughtfully.

 

Shan looks grimly at her caf.  Someone appears to place a plate before her, but she frowns and pushes it away. Food seems like a terrible idea right now. "No champagne tonight," she mutters.

 

Hill laughs at this but Snoke agrees quietly. "Yes, that is probably for the best." Then he starts issuing instructions for Shan. “Hill will accompany you and Lesser's wife for your outing today.   Buy whatever you like, Shan.”

 

She nods. She and Vanata Lesser are going shopping this morning. It’s the first time Shan will have left the apartment other than to watch Snoke testify in Senate hearings. Today should be fun. She has been looking forward to it.

 

Snoke rises to leave but he pauses to lay a hand on her shoulder on his way out. “Eat, Shan. You know I don't like skinny women. You need to keep your strength up, my dear. There is one more party tonight.” He drops a kiss on her brow and then he's off.

 

Shan dutifully picks at the food but downs a lot of caf. Then, Senator Lesser’s wife arrives and they are off together.

 

Coruscant has a famed high street with the galaxy's most exclusive ateliers and couturiers.   These are not shops to browse in. Most are strictly by appointment unless you happen to be the two fashionable, well connected Muun ladies Mesdames Damask and Lesser who arrive with a security entourage that rivals the Supreme Chancellor. The salesgirls see the paparazzi snapping pictures long before they see the actual customers and that ensures Shan and Vanata a warm welcome.  

 

Shopping is tedious, Shan decides. But Vanata is fun. She's angry at her philandering husband and determined to strike back where apparently it will hurt him the most--his bank account.   Shan's friend seems to have gotten past her initial grief and dismay over the pregnant mistress. Now she's mad and wants to get even. Shan can’t help but laugh at Vanata’s wicked glee in charging up credits. The salesgirls are only too happy to assist.

 

“Don't you see anything you like?” her friends asks.  

 

"Not really." Shan's heart is not in it.   The moment she had realized that the Coruscant high street lay directly in the shadow of the Jedi temple, Shan has felt ashamed about her indulgence in materials goods. And all the uncomfortable guilt about her life with Snoke has come rushing back and now her girls’ day out with Vanata is not the lark Shan had hoped it would be. Shan is mostly tagging along now. Offering opinions when solicited, but mostly hanging back enjoying watching Vanata’s enjoyment.

 

Two hours and thousands of credits later, Vanata has one more stop before they head home. "I know just the place where you can find something special that Hego will love you in," she tells Shan.

 

Shan dutifully marches to another boutique and this one is directly across from the Jedi temple and Shan can't help but stand and stare for a moment. But then a photographer starts snapping photos and Shan hurries inside. The last thing she needs is for a photograph of her gaping at the Jedi temple to be published.

 

It’s a lingerie shop. "Since you're a newlywed, you have to buy something here," Vanata informs her.  Overhearing this remark, the salesgirls pounce and begin asking questions. Embarrassing questions that Shan is not going to answer with three IGBC thugs within earshot and gossipy San Hill hanging on every word as he pretends he isn't listening.  

 

"What's your bra size, Madame? We have a wide selection in stock but we can always have something delivered from the warehouse in only a few hours."

 

Shan turns pink.   She's not about to say 38H out loud.

 

"Not a bra. Perhaps a nightgown instead," Shan ad libs. She'll choose something conservative and then they can get out of here fast. Shan doesn't know what's making her more uncomfortable, the proximity to the Jedi temple or this store. Or maybe it's her being a Jedi in this store in such close proximity to the temple. Whatever the reason, Shan is uncomfortable.

 

"Tell her what the Chairman likes," Vanata suggests. “They have everything here. And I do mean everything," she confides with a knowing look that makes Shan afraid to ask what everything entails.

 

"Yes. What does your husband like? Color? Lace?" the salesgirl offers up options.

 

It’s a fair question, but a personal one before onlookers. Close by, San Hill is grinning and he's all ears. And thank goodness old Milo is outside with the speeder. What does her husband like? All Shan can think of is herself screaming out the Sith's name last night in humiliating ecstasy. And now Shan is truly blushing.

 

Well, he's a Sith, so Shan goes with the obvious. "Black," she whispers furtively, trying to be discrete.

 

Neither woman takes the hint   "Black! I knew it!" Vanata exclaims loudly. "Black is always so elegant."

 

"Black how?" The salesgirl wants more details. "Something romantic like black lace? Or are we going for more of a sexy black?   Is he into fetish—how do you feel about black latex?"  

 

Oh, dear. Now, Shan wishes she had never said a word.

 

"How about a black corset? You would look great in a corset, Madame," the salesgirl suggests.

 

Vanata nods and Shen agrees just to end this conversation. "That would be nice."

 

"Lace or satin?"

 

"Satin?" Shan hazards a guess.

 

"With panties?"

 

"Oh, yes." Shan is scandalized by the alternative. Who doesn’t wear panties?

 

Ten minutes later, Shan owns a black satin corset, matching panties and, of all things, a black satin blindfold. All boxed up like a present. And she is beet red and stammering. Vanata looks very pleased with herself. The salesgirl just nods approvingly and slips in her card for next time. They ship to Munnilinst, she says for the third time in the last five minutes.

 

As they head out to the speeder, Shan stops to look up. She stands there a long moment. Too long.

 

Milo walks up to her shoulder. In his quiet way, he softly suggests, "Let's get in the speeder, my lady.” Then he takes her package and hands it off to security.

 

But Shan just stands there staring at the Jedi temple.

 

Her mind fills with memories that jostle for supremacy. First there are memories of her training years, of her university studies, and of her exacting master who oversees the Archives.  Then come the haunting images from her visions. Memories of the jackbooted soldiers, of the streaking blue saber, and of the cloaked Sith who might be her son. The comforting past and the terrifying future juxtaposed and taunting her.

 

Just a few steps away is the answer. Here stands the refuge that will welcome her home from the dead and save her from herself and from her shameful weaknesses.   This is the only place that can shelter her from her inadvertent husband and prevent the murderous might-be son from ever coming to life. And here Shan can provide a warning and perhaps prevent a massacre.

 

It is a rare clear day on Coruscant and the sun is shining to reflect off the gleaming five-spired Temple and its surrounding plaza. Everywhere here is the Light. The Light that will forgive her trespasses, lead her not into temptation, and deliver her from evil.

 

She is a Jedi. This is where she belongs. This is the Light and it is right.

 

Milo interrupts her reverie. His tone is insistent now. "Come away, my lady. Madame Lesser and the others are waiting."

 

San Hill is at her side now too, come to investigate what is the delay. Security never likes you to linger out in the open. "Madame Damask?" he mirrors Milo's formality.

 

Shan ignores him. She reaches into the chic handbag slung across her body and pulls out her saber. Hill doesn't know what it is, but the Sith manservant does.

 

Milo sucks in a breath. He speaks sternly now and he reaches for her arm. "No, my lady. Put it back. Walk away. Walk away now."

 

"Shan, dear, is something wrong?" Vanata Lesser calls from the speeder.

 

No, something is right. For the first time in long months, Shan thinks, something is right. Master Yoda had always warned that the Dark Side would tempt a Jedi. But today, it is the Light that sings the sirens’ call she cannot ignore. Calling her home.

 

Milo is gripping her left arm with a strength that does not match his years. "Shan," he uses her given name in the stress of the moment. "Shan, this is not forgivable. There will be no mercy!" he hisses. "Stop now!"

 

Shan shrugs the slight human off. With a deep breath and a hopeful heart, she bounds up the steps to head for the temple entrance. San Hill follows closely behind.

 

Shan doesn't look back, so she misses the panicked look on Milo's face. And she doesn't hear his command to the rest of the security team to alert the Chairman immediately.


	20. Chapter 20

Shan ducks through the Jedi temple entrance. The guards don’t stop her. There are ten thousand Jedi Knights in the galaxy and security doesn’t know them all on sight. But the guards are Force-sensitives who can feel that she has the Force. And they see that she is holding a lightsaber and looks like she knows where she’s going.

 

San Hill isn’t so lucky. She hears the temple guards stop him but she doesn’t look back.

 

The Coruscant temple complex is huge but the main building she enters houses the Archives with the holochron vault.   She heads for the vault but never reaches it. For Shan spots her old master walking up ahead of her in the main hallway. Jocasta Nu stops in her tracks and now Shan is up close behind her.

 

“Shan?” Master Nu hasn’t turned around yet, but she senses her former student in the Force. “Shan? Shan!” Her mentor whirls around and in the space of only a few seconds, a full gamut of emotions travel across the Jedi scholar’s face. Surprise. Relief. Elation. Confusion. Suspicion. Concern. “You are alive,” she observes aloud. “Thank the Force!”

 

Master Nu is grinning ear to ear as she looks Shan up and down.   No doubt taking in her clingy surplice cream dress, her heeled and fringed knee high boots and the matching bag slung across her torso. Shan had dressed to be photographed and she looks, well, expensive. Very not like her Jedi self. “Yes . . . alive and well it seems.”

 

The Jedi Master raises an eyebrow and pauses expectantly.

 

But Shan can’t find her tongue. There is so much that she wants to say and most of it she is afraid to say. Shan’s headlong dash into the temple had not been planned out. She doesn’t know what happens next. Shan is a girl who overthinks everything and is rarely impulsive, so her actions have shocked even herself. For a moment Shan just stands there, staring back at her old master.

 

Shan just wants to hug her. To fall into her arms and to confess everything. But you don't hug Jocasta Nu. The Jedi scholar is not a demonstrative person. Cerebral and logical and wise, yes. Patient too for the most part. But never touchy-feely. As a child, Shan had always slightly envied other padawans with more approachable, less exacting masters. But over time, Shan had come to understand her Master’s personality and to recognize that her mentor keeps everyone at arm’s length, not just Shan. Jedi Master Jocasta Nu is devoted to the Order and to her work, and all else is a distant second.

 

Master Nu starts asking questions. “Where have you been? We thought that you were dead.”

 

Shan takes a deep breath. She will tell all she can except for the identity of the Sith. Shan is too frightened to do that. And she won’t have to if the Jedi will take her back and she can hide here in the temple, bury herself in work and forget that she ever met Darth Plagueis the Wise. And then there will hopefully be no Sith son and no massacre. Shan might not be able to save the Republic, but perhaps she can save the Jedi Order. And save herself in the process.

 

With that goal, Shan starts confessing her edited mix of truth. “I met a man, Master, and I acted foolishly.”  

 

Master Nu’s eyes widen at this confession. Clearly, this explanation had never been considered to be in the realm of possibility. Her eyes now find Shan’s giant wedding ring. Then they shift to San Hill standing silently a few meters behind Shan. Hill is flanked by temple guards at each elbow. Her teacher’s eyes narrow. “How foolishly?”

 

“Very foolishly, Master.” Shan is miserable in this moment. And she knows that it’s only going to get worse. “I have let you down.”

 

Her mentor raises an eyebrow. “Does that ring mean what I think it means? That you have an attachment?”

 

“Yes, I have married. It was a mistake.”  

 

“Married? Married? Shan . . .” Her teacher digests this news for a moment. Master Nu’s face says it all. She is appalled. And struggling to understand. “You never said that you were unhappy.   You never told us that you had doubts.”   The Jedi Master thinks a moment and suspicion dawns. “Was this because of the Coruscant professor post?”

 

No, it wasn’t. And Shan had not been unhappy and she had never had any doubts. Not until she met the Sith, that is. “No, it was not. It was a mistake.” Shan wants to explain but she doesn’t quite know how. And standing amid the central hallway of the temple with San Hill looking on is far too public a place to have this conversation. Already she and her Master are getting curious looks.

 

Jocasta Nu sighs and looks away. Through the Force, Shan can sense her disappointment. It stings.

 

When Shan doesn’t elaborate, Master Nu complains, “You could have come to me. You are not the first to struggle with attachment.   I might have helped you through this.   In the end, you would have been a stronger Jedi for it.”

 

“I’m sorry, Master.”

 

It’s an unsatisfying and inadequate response and suddenly Master Nu is angry. “You ran away and left us to wonder and to grieve. With no explanation!   I thought you were dead, Shan! It is so unlike you to be irresponsible. To be so selfish. Did you know that there was a woman found on Naboo who matched your description, who wore what looked to be your clothes? That woman was brutally murdered and everyone thought that was you. Can you explain that?”

 

Yes, Shan can explain a little. But she doesn’t dare. “No, I cannot explain that.” It’s an evasion and Master Nu knows it, based on the grimace that streaks across her face.

 

Again, Shan’s response frustrates more than explains. “You are no impressionable young girl, Shan. You are woman long grown. These are not the actions of a mature Jedi. I can’t—I can’t believe this! I find out that you are alive. But you are lost to us anyway.” Master Nu raises a hand to her forehead, which Shan knows indicates that she is struggling to maintain her Jedi calm. “Is that him?” Her teacher gestures with contempt to San Hill standing behind Shan. “Is this the man who led you into temptation?”

 

Shan shakes her head. “No, Master. He is just a friend.”

 

“Then who is the man for whom you have forsaken us? For whom you have thrown away your future?”

 

Shan hesitates. Once she says his name, things will get a lot trickier.

 

“Well? You owe us that at least.” Her teacher’s eyes bore into hers and now Shan is sixteen years old again and an obedient, respectful padawan who only wants to please her tough Master.

 

“Hego Damask,” Shan blurts out.

 

Jocasta Nu blinks. “The banking chairman??”

 

“Yes.”

 

Evidently, Master Nu isn’t sure she has heard right. “You married Hego Damask, the IGBC head? The Hego Damask that is the richest man in the galaxy?”

 

“Yes. He is all of those things.”  And more. Much, much more.

 

“How is this possible?” her mentor demands hotly. “How did this happen under our noses? No, wait.” Master Nu raises her hand to forestall a response. She shakes her head in disgust. “I don’t want to know. It doesn’t matter now.”

 

But still, Shan feels she owes some explanation. “It was a chance meeting. Things progressed very quickly. Too quickly, Master. It was a mistake.” This is true, at least.

 

“Evidently,” the Jedi scholar sniffs her disdain. She gives Shan a hard look. “Chairman Damask has done the Jedi Order a great disrespect in this.   He knows better. And so do you. How could you be so bold?”

 

“I’m sorry, Master.”

 

“And why did you not tell us sooner? Is there more to explain your actions?”

 

Shan opens her mouth to respond but then closes it.

 

“Well, Shan?”

 

“No.” She lies. And her Master knows it. Shan falls deeper into her contempt now. This is not going well.

 

“Then why are you here now? Does Damask want out of this marriage too?”

 

“I’m here because I wanted to see you. To explain that I have made a mistake, and that I wish to atone for it and to return to the Order. I need to return to the Order. Today. Right now.”

 

Her teacher frowns. “Are you divorced?”

 

“Er . . . no.”

 

“Then how can you even ask for this if the attachment still exists? If you had a fight with your--your husband,” she spits out this word, “do not ask the Order to get in the middle.”  

 

“But the attachment is over! I’m not going back to him. And I’m not sure that the marriage is even legal.  Please,” Shan stops to suck back a sob. She’s fighting to keep her composure now. The stress of the situation is threatening to consume her. And never has Shan been able to withstand criticism from her teacher. Always, she would fall to pieces in private afterwards. “Please, I want to return to the Order. I made a mistake and I admit it. At least let me go before the High Council and plead my case.”

 

Master Nu does not look pleased by this _mea culpa_. For if ever there was a by-the-book Jedi, it is Jocasta Nu. She’s looking at Shan now with a mix of incredulity and indignation. Like Shan is the biggest fool in the galaxy to think returning to the Order would even be possible.

 

“You cannot come back, Shan.   The Council would never allow it.   This is too high profile a marriage to be swept under the rug. It would be a terrible embarrassment to explain publicly for the Order. Perhaps we might have worked something out in other circumstances. Maybe if you had married a private citizen and there was a divorce and some time had passed for you to reflect on your actions. But not now. Not under these circumstances.” She shakes her head and she might as well have wagged a stern finger at Shan. “Chairman Damask?”  Jocasta Nu still can’t quite believe it.  

 

Then she focuses on Shan a moment in the Force and her brow furrows.   “No, you cannot come back. Especially not now. Stay dead, Shan. It is better this way. Keep your new life and be happy. I will not support you before the Council in this.” Without a Jedi Master’s support, Shan knows that she will never get an audience with the High Council.

 

“But I don't want this life!” These words come out more as a wail than anything. Shan is very close to tears. Surely her Master knows that it is not like Shan to make a fuss. Shan has never made a public scene like this before in her life. But she’s desperate now and she doesn’t care. “I don’t want this life! I am a Jedi!”

 

“Was a Jedi.” The words are harsh and even Master Nu frowns at how cutting they sound. She tries to reason with her former padawan. “Shan, you will only find pain here. The High Council will not forgive this and neither will I. If you pursue this, we will all regret it.   It will be a scandal for the Order and for the IGBC. You will be expelled and your husband will receive public censure. And then you will lose both your place in the Order and your marriage. Everyone will lose. Plus, there is more than just you to think of now.”

 

What? “But—“

 

“Shan, you need to move on.” Her Master’s face softens, her compassion stirred by the silent tears that run down Shan’s face.  Jocasta Nu might not be cuddly, but she is never as harsh as her words portray her. “There are much worse things than to be wife to a prominent and wealthy man, Shan. Perhaps you two can put your differences behind you and start anew. That would be for the best.”

 

Her Master makes it sound so easy. As if she and Snoke are fighting about something stupid and petty. Instead of the fate of the Jedi and the fate of the galaxy.

 

It’s all sinking in now for Shan. Master Nu is not going to help her. Shan hasn’t divulged enough for her mentor to understand the situation. But short of revealing that Hego Damask is a Sith, there doesn’t seem to be any other means to persuade. Her Master thinks Shan is a fallen Jedi who is having second thoughts months into a hasty marriage. That this is some sort of lovers’ quarrel, or maybe sincere regrets. But nothing serious enough to merit looking past her lapses to the Jedi Code. And so Shan has exposed herself and she has gained nothing for it.

 

Yes, this conversation is going all wrong. It has focused on Shan and her marriage when it should be focused on her visions and her concerns for the Sith. Because that’s why Shan had wanted to leave Snoke in the first place. To avoid being complicit in his schemes and to avoid bearing him the Jedi-killing Sith son he wants from her.  

 

“I can’t go back to him,” Shan whispers aloud.

 

“Why not?” Master Nu is genuinely trying to understand.

 

“He is not the man I thought he was. He’s not a good person, Master. He is . . . he is . . . .” her voice trails off. Shan can’t bring herself to say it.

 

Because if she reveals that her husband is a Sith, would anyone even believe her? Or would her Master think it all a lie to gain readmission to the Order? And if the Jedi didn’t believe Shan, where would that leave her? There could be no greater betrayal than to divulge the whole truth to the Jedi. Shan would be a dead woman the moment the words left her lips. She’s probably a dead woman now already.   Even old Milo had tried to warn her.

 

“Shan, this is a problem that I cannot solve for you. I’m sorry, but that’s how it is.” Her old teacher looks upset now too.

 

“Master, there is something more I have to tell you.   I keep having visions of this temple. Years from now but in your lifetime, this temple will burn and the Jedi Order will fall to the Sith. I have seen you die, Master, by the sword of a Sith.”

 

“The Sith?” Jocasta Nu’s reaction is much as Shan’s would have been up until months ago. For to a modern Jedi, the very idea that the Sith exist is preposterous. It’s like arguing that the Tooth Fairy is real and she’s coming to take over the galaxy.

 

“Yes, the Sith.” Shan looks her in the eye and gives her words as much credence as she can through the Force. “The Sith are real and they live hidden among us, Master. Close to us.”

 

Master Nu scoffs at this. “There are no Sith. There have not been Sith for centuries. Not since Darth Bane.” Master Nu looks annoyed now. “The future is always in motion, Shan. I have told you this many times. Force visions usually just confuse and mislead. In this, you have been misled. There are no Sith.”

 

Shan tries again. “You must believe me, for it will all come true.” All this and more. “Master, the Sith live. Years from now, this temple will burn, the Republic will end and the Jedi Order will fall. And then the Sith will rule the galaxy. You must believe me, for it will all come true.” If nothing else, Shan will give this warning.

 

But predictably, it falls on deaf ears. Master Nu just gives Shan yet another look of exasperation. And Shan sees that in this Snoke is right—few people recognize the truth when they hear it. This is probably the only moment that bookish, lousy padawan Shan will act the part of the Jedi heroine taking a risk on behalf of others.   Her words are far braver than anyone but she realizes. And maybe they are more foolhardy than brave. For even in this, Shan is judged to be lacking.

 

Her mentor just sighs. “I have failed you, Shan, for you have learned very little from me. With this marriage, you flout one of the basic values and ideals of our Order. And years past your padawan days, you still will not put your Force visions in the proper perspective.” She looks Shan in the eye and then looks away. “How you disappoint me.”

 

“Yes,” Shan looks down now too, equally frustrated at having taken this risk and gained nothing. And feeling guilty, oh so guilty, over her life with Snoke. “I have disappointed myself too, Master.”   Shan reaches out her hand still holding her saber.  She offers it to her Master. “Here.”

 

Master Nu looks at it a long moment before refusing.   “Keep it. Perhaps you will need it to protect yourself from these phantom Sith.”

 

“It is too late for that, Master.” Shan’s words are bitter.

 

From behind her, San Hill speaks up. Shan has forgotten that he was still here. “My lady, we should leave.”

 

Master Nu seconds the suggestion. “Your friend is right.   It is time for you to leave.”

 

Shan nods slowly and looks Jocasta Nu in the eye. “Remember what I said, Master. About the visions and about the Sith. One day a Sith will come to kill you.” The one who Shan fears will be her son.

 

Her Master ignores this warning. “May the Force be with you,” she blesses her former padawan sadly. “Both of you. Make the most of your secular life, Shan.   I hope you find what you are looking for since you did not find it here.” She gives Shan one last long look. “Goodbye, Shan. Good luck with the baby.”  

 

“Baby?” Shan breathes aloud. “What baby??”

 

“You’re pregnant, Shan,” Jocasta Nu tells her softly. “Didn’t you know? If you concentrate hard enough, you can feel the child in the Force.”

 

Baby! Oh, gods, no! This is the worst news ever. “Oh, the shame.”   The words just slip out. Shan feels faint for a moment. She covers her mouth with her hand in horror.

 

“You didn't know?” Master Nu looks very uncomfortable now that she has been the one to deliver this unwelcome news. And now it’s clear to Shan why her Master had been unwilling to support her request to speak to the High Council.

 

“N-No.” Shan swallows hard. Then she starts panicking. Her voice rises in pitch and volume. Suddenly she’s almost shrill. “Oh, Master, promise me. P-please promise me that you will tell no one about this. Not about the marriage, or Hego or the baby. P-please! None of this matters to the Order now.” Shan doesn’t want to be remembered as the Jedi example everyone scares the padawans with—the shameful Jedi who disappeared, married and got pregnant and then changed her mind and wanted to come back but was refused.

 

Jocasta No deliberates and decides. “Alright, Shan. It will be our secret. Just between us.” Then, looking past Shan to the temple guards who flank San Hill, Master Nu nods and issues her orders. “Please escort this woman and her friend out.”

 

Shan watches until her teacher disappears into the doorway at the end of the hallway. It’s the entrance to the holochron vault where in her vision her Master dies.

 

Will this baby grow up to be her killer?

 

Shan is heartsick and lost. So as the temple guards appear at her side asking her politely to leave now without further incident, she nods mutely. The temple is not the sanctuary she had hoped for. Now, no place is safe for her. The Jedi don’t want her and the Sith will probably kill her.

 

She is wary now of returning back to her friend and to Milo waiting at the speeder. And lost for what to tell San Hill who keeps sneaking incredulous glances at her as they walk out with the temple guards.  

 

And, oh, gods! She’s pregnant. This stunning news overwhelms her and takes precedence over all else. Shan’s problems just got a lot worse.

 

And then, as luck would have it, they get worse still.

 

She and San Hill are at the temple entrance now and the whole IGBC security team quickly surrounds them as they emerge. Shan doesn’t even notice. She is frozen on the threshold looking out. Her heart skips a beat and her pulse starts to race.

 

Darth Sidious stands by the speeder in animated conversation with Vanata Lesser.  

 

It’s too late for Shan to try to make a run for it. And it’s not like she would get far in these three inch heels. So Shan is reluctantly marched forward by her security. Ostensibly, these men are supposed to protect her, but in reality they lead her forward to deeper danger. Whether these men know it or not, they are loyal to the Sith.

 

“Ah, Madame Damask,” Sidious greets Shan warmly as she approaches. He is his Senator Palpatine self, all smiles and pleasantries. “What a nice surprise. Allow me to thank you for your hospitality last evening. The Banking Clan receptions are always a who's who of Coruscant. I am honored to have made your guest list.”

 

She just stares at him. Vanata starts prattling on about what a great hostess Shan is and Shan isn't listening.   She looks over to Milo but the old man won’t meet her eyes. And that speaks volumes.

 

“Were you heading back?” Sidious is full of guile, but only she and Milo are aware of it. “Let me escort you, I insist. I am headed that direction right now to meet with the Chairman for some banking committee matters.   Please, join me.” He gestures in the direction of his waiting speeder. Then glances over respectfully at Shan’s security lead San Hill. “With your permission, of course, Hill. My guards will keep her safe.”  

 

And since San Hill had once seen his boss ask Senator Palpatine to escort Shan home, he sees nothing wrong with this arrangement. Hill nods, oblivious to the undercurrents. And no doubt distracted by the scene he had overheard inside the Jedi temple.

 

“That won't be necessary, Senator.” Shan isn’t getting in a speeder with Sidious. She’s no fool. This man had once held a saber to her throat close enough to burn. There’s no telling what he will do now that he has seen her walk out of a Jedi temple.   “Vanata and I have some things planned this afternoon. Perhaps another time.”

 

“Oh, but Madame, I insist.” Sidious turns to Senator Lesser’s wife. “Didn’t you tell me that you have a commitment you are late to already?” His voice is coated with the Force. It’s a command disguised as an assertion you want to believe.  

 

Vanata pauses and blinks. Then repeats. “I have a commitment that I am late to already.” It’s the Jedi mind-trick, Sith-style. Poor clueless Vanata Lesser is truly as weak-minded as she appears.

 

“Well, there you have it, Madame Damask. Let Hill and Milo here take the Senator’s wife home and I’ll get you back to Hego safe and sound.” Sidious nods to Milo and the speeder takes off, leaving her alone with the Sith and his Senate guards.

 

“Get in, Jedi,” Sidious orders her softly. Shan hesitates, thinking seriously of making a run for it. They are in public, in plain view. They wouldn’t shoot her, would they? “There is no escape,” the Sith warns. “I will be violent if you make me. But do us both a favor and preserve some dignity here at the end.” And then Shan feels a sharp constriction at her throat. It’s a stranglehold that lasts only a few seconds before she nods her agreement. And gasping for breath, she climbs into the waiting speeder.

 

They ride in silence back to Snoke's Coruscant apartment for her reckoning with the Sith.


	21. Chapter 21

Snoke is waiting on the balcony of the Coruscant apartment. He is turned to look out, his hands clasped behind him. Holding his lightsaber.

 

Shan falters when she sees him, but Sidious shoves her forward. So she just stands there behind him, uncomfortable with the memory of what she and Snoke had done together on this balcony last night. She remembers standing encircled in his arms afterwards and Shan stops herself. There’s no point in dwelling on his tenderness now that he has his saber out.

 

“On your knees, Jedi.” Snoke does not bother to turn around to face her as he speaks. Such is his contempt.

 

Shan stands rooted to the spot for a moment, staring at the saber hilt in her husband’s hands. When she has hesitated too long, the crossguard saber ignites with a one-two snap and buzz and a brilliant flash of red.

 

That is all the cue she needs.

 

Shan takes a deep breath. Then her legs fold gracefully beneath her and she’s on her knees, resting on her heels, her hands in her lap and her head bowed forward.

 

Waiting for the inevitable. But hoping for the improbable.

 

This, then, is the culmination of it all. From the moment she had stepped into the temple on Naboo and unwittingly entered the life of this secret Sith, it was always going to end this way. Because Light and Dark might coexist but they do not reconcile. How can they when the Light refuses to even acknowledge the Dark exists? And when the Dark plots to rule it all and the Light is just more collateral damage?   The two sides of the Force are not so much in opposition but in skew. And Shan dangles in the void in between.   It is a precarious, unsustainable position.   Yes, Shan thinks with sudden clarity, this man was always going to be the death of her some way or another.

 

“Well?” Snoke asks, his back still turned. “Have you an explanation?”

 

“I could not resist the Light,” she confesses softly.

 

“You could not resist the dogma of the Jedi!” He snarls this back at her. “For never once have I asked you to dim your Light. I asked you only to break with their institution and their restrictions.”

 

Yes, he asks her to keep her Light but to shun its ideals she was raised on. More and more, Shan sees that Snoke asks the impossible.

 

She wonders what forever with this Sith might have been like. Would she have been the last Jedi left alive, kept alive to serve as the personal Light for a man grown impossibly Dark? With her power offered up to him nightly, the balm for a soul that might otherwise be consumed by the destructive power of the shadow Force? Shan stares at his gleaming sword now and thinks perhaps things are better this way. She would never want to live long enough to be the last of anything. To be the lonely remnant of bygone times.

 

“No one betrays the Sith and lives. Sith do not forgive.   Sith do not forget.”

 

Yes, Shan understands. If this is a trial of sorts, then the judgement is clear and the sentence foregone.  And, truthfully, it is not unexpected.

 

She looks up at her husband’s turned back and feels sadness. Here is a man whose greatest ambition is to become everlasting evil. An eternal Sith to dwarf all those who have come before. But were it not for his Dark ambitions so in conflict with her faith, Shan might have loved this man. Truly loved this man. For there is so much to admire about him. So many talents, so much knowledge, so much charm, so much wisdom.  And so, so handsome.

 

She has lain in his arms, she has kissed his lips, she has cried out for more as his body filled hers and his mind penetrated her thoughts. Always thoroughly dominated by him even if she had ostensible control. For just because you're on top, doesn't mean you're in charge.   A week with the Republic Senate witnessing the weakness of the Supreme Chancellor has taught Shan that.

 

Control is what he does, Snoke had told her the truth.  Part of it. His style is to divulge nuggets of truth. Just not the complete picture. And Shan realizes that he has managed her like he manages everyone else. Telling her just enough to satisfy her and to make her feel that he is on her side.

 

But he’s only ever on his own side.

 

She understands now that she was a novelty Snoke stumbled upon: the Jedi girl next door who seemed refreshingly different for a man surrounded by aggressive strivers who are pragmatic in their loyalties and opportunistic in their values.   Naive, curious, trusting, friendly and shy of conflict. Everything he didn’t know he was looking for, Snoke has told her, until the Force intervened. But now the Force has made a fool of him.

 

Slowly, he turns to face her and all Shan sees is his yellow eyes. Accusing her. She is transfixed by those piercing Sith eyes that are so filled with rage and with hurt.

 

Her betrayal has hurt him.

 

His sword is lit and held ready in his right hand. His left hand rises and with it his power.

 

Darth Plagueis rips into her mind.

 

The pain is unbearable and immediately she is screaming out loud from it.  Squeezing shut her eyes and clutching desperately at her skull.  Her head is exploding with images and feelings as he rifles through, first replaying the past week, then the past day and now the past hour. Seeing her visions, her doubt, her uncertainty. Seeing Sidious egging her on. It's too much. And it feels like it is going on forever. Make it stop! Make it stop! Shan is nauseous, dizzy and faint.

 

So she treats it like one of her visions and simply yields to it. Snoke has slowed down now to watch in detail and he’s almost to the end of her conversation with Master Nu when Shan finally dissolves into the pain. Losing herself and her consciousness to the onslaught of his Dark power. For as a child she was taught that there is no death, there is the Force. And because in this, as in all things, Shan is not much of a fighter. She might be strong in her principles, but lately she is weak and confused in her resolve.   And really that's what has gotten her in this situation in the first place. She was never cut out for this heroine business.

 

As she fades, his mind abruptly withdraws. He’s seen enough to condemn her. Her physical world is gone but the agony is gone too. In her barely conscious state, Shan wonders if she is dead. If this is what it means to be one with the Force. She doesn’t think so because she feels something wet on her cheek. But when she wipes away the tear it is dark red. Blood meanders down from her nose and her ear. More consciousness returns and Shan realizes that she is curled up in a ball on the floor at Snoke’s feet.

 

She hears Sidious from behind her. "Are we exposed?" His tone is anxious.

 

"She did not reveal who we are, but she did reveal our goals. Her Master did not believe her and the Jedi would not take her back." Snoke’s summary is terse.

 

“So she has betrayed us.” To Shan’s ears, Sidious sounds almost pleased. “Kill her, Master. She must die for this.” Sidious speaks like the bad angel on Snoke's shoulder, egging him on to violence. Sidious has long been jealous of her, Shan realizes, and urging her back to the Jedi was a convenient way to get rid of her. As Shan struggles to sit up, she realizes that she has allowed herself to be expertly manipulated by the Naboo.

 

Snoke doesn’t answer right away, so Sidious is emboldened. "Let me be the one to kill her. I know that you are fond of her. Let me take this burden from you, my Master. I will be quick about it. She will not unduly suffer."

 

"That will not be necessary. Leave us, Sidious."

 

The red sword tip flashes up to her face with these words and Shan rears back. Snoke begins to circle her now. Very slowly. Methodically.

 

“I should have expected this.” Snoke’s words are spoken slow and cold. His voice is scorn. “That if you were not loyal to the Jedi, you would not be loyal to the Sith.   How fickle is woman.   You might have shared the galaxy with me.”

 

This provokes an objection from the jealous Apprentice who has lingered. “Master—“

 

“Leave us!” Snoke roars his command and the Apprentice retreats this time.

 

The Sith Master’s attention is all for her now.

 

“I was unwise to give you a second chance after Dooku. I showed you trust to merit your loyalty and you have betrayed me yet again. How you disappoint me.”

 

Shan has nothing to say to this. Today, apparently, she has disappointed everyone.

 

“I warned you that the Jedi would never take you back. That you have been tainted forever by me. That there is no salvation from the Sith.”

 

Shan needs no convincing of this now. Her head hangs lower.

 

“You dared to turn me out of your bed. My own wife whose duty it is to please me. Never have I waited for a woman before. But I waited for you.”

 

He keeps circling her. His sword buzzes with its movement and each time Shan flinches.

 

“I am a Sith Master with centuries of knowledge and study and yet you dared to speak to me as an equal. To question my knowledge of the Force, to doubt my understanding of destiny, to risk the work of decades when you seek to evade the truth of your vision.” Snoke is seething with rage. Shan senses his anger growing more focused with each word. Almost as if he’s psyching himself up. “There is no escape from it, Shan. And no escape from me. Now, some other woman will bear me my Sith son.”

 

“Don’t do this.” Finally, Shan finds her voice. It’s a hoarse croak from screaming. “Please.”

 

He ignores her. “You are such a child, Shan, and I have indulged you like one.  I see that I have been far too tolerant, for you do not respect your Sith.”

 

She is trembling now with fear and dread. “Please—“

 

He cuts her off. “I did not wish to treat you as I would an Apprentice. To break you down and to refashion you. So when you came to me with doubts, I hoped that meant that you had accepted us and our destiny.”

 

Snoke has stopped pacing. He stands directly before her and Shan instantly understands what’s coming next. “Please, don’t do this!”   Her hands are clasped before her and she’s stares up at him beseeching.

 

The Sith is unmoved. “I am a rational man even if passion is my power.   And there is no justification for you to live.   I will do what I must. Goodbye, wife. Prepare to meet the Force.”

 

He draws back his sword. His saber is held in both hands like broadsword.

 

His eyes are closed.

 

“I’m pregnant!” It is the last thought that goes through her mind as his red sword streaks at her.

 

He checks his swing at the last possible moment, holding the sword blazing inches from her neck.

 

“I’m pregnant,” Shan sputters out miserably. She is not happy about it. “You were right about the Force. I cannot avoid this destiny.”

 

“Pregnant.” Snoke considers her for a long moment before deciding, “Yes . . . you are pregnant.” The Sith smirks. He is smug to be proven right.   And . . . relieved.  “I knew the Force brought us together for a reason.”

 

He reaches for her face and Shan shrinks from his touch in fear. But he wraps his power around her and she is immobilized in place. Unable to turn away from the touch that wipes at the twin trails of blood that drip from her nostrils to her lips. Shan is stuck staring at him as he cups her cheek. His gentleness so jarring just seconds after he had been swinging for her head.

 

“You should have told me sooner. I would have been more gentle with you.” He releases his Force hold but Shan is too frightened to move. And his sword is still lit. “You keep surprising me, Shan. For such a timid thing, you can be remarkably bold.”

 

He stares down at her for a long moment. Then, he is decided. The Sith extinguishes his sword.

 

“I will let you live to birth my child. And one day, when my son is grown, I will give him your saber and send him to the Jedi temple.   And there he will fulfill your vision as the Sith who wields the Jedi sword.”

 

Snoke reaches a hand down under her arm and hauls her to her feet. But she is weak still and her head is still spinning and aching and her limbs feel like leaden weights. For the aftermath of Snoke’s mental assault is exhaustion and pain. He sets her to her feet, but Shan begins to crumple anew, eyes rolling back and head drooping. He catches her and now she is sagging in his arms much as she was just last night. Only the circumstances could not be more different.

 

Snoke must sense it too. “I regret that is has come to this, my Shan,” he tells her softly. “I had hoped that you would come to care for me in time. That we might make each other happy.”

 

Yes, Shan thinks as she rests her head on his shoulder, they might have been happy were she not Jedi and he not Sith. But now she has betrayed and hurt him and in return he has hurt and almost killed her. And now there is the complication of a baby.

 

Snoke had said that he cared for his other wives. Does he care for her? Shan doesn't know. But she is certain that even if Darth Plagueis does care, he cares for himself and for his plots more.

 

He sweeps her up into his arms and carries her to the bedroom to drop her heavily on the bed.

 

“Since you are alive, you will attend the party tonight. The Supreme Chancellor will be making an appearance. Shan, you will get dressed. You will smile and you will chat and you will be the perfect, polished lady that you are in public. And you will not leave my side the entire evening. Do not think to defy me or I will rethink my decision to let you live.” He disappears into the closet and comes out to fling her silver evening gown at her. “Here. Wear this.”

 

His eyes narrow as he looks down upon her. She’s exhausted lying on the bed, but he’s the one who looks defeated. He sighs heavily, the heat gone out of his words. “Enjoy this evening, Shan, for it is your last such night   We return to Muunilinst tomorrow and since you cannot be trusted, I will lock you up.”

 

Yes, she knew that was coming. Shan just nods weakly.

 

He heads for the door but pauses a moment before leaving. Telling her quietly, “Shan, I too know what it means to feel the call to the Light.”

 

She cries herself to sleep into a long nap. Shan wakes from a knock on the door. The dressers are here. Shan struggles from bed. One glance in the mirror tells her that they have their work cut out for them. Shan looks awful. Her eyes are puffy and red, her face blotchy from crying and there is dried blood on her chin and on her neck. Her head still aches terribly. But her heart aches more.

 

The dressers troop in and they are the same ones Shan has had all week. For past nights of prep, they had fallen into an easy girlish chitchat. But not tonight. Shan's mind is on other things. As usual, she takes almost all of their suggestions—they are the professionals, after all. But she insists on bright lipstick. And when the fashion lady wants Shan to wear some new green dress, Shan is firm. She'll wear the silver gown that her husband requested. This remark receives a round of seconds as all agree that husbands must be kept happy.

 

Hers more than most, Shan thinks acidly. And she's damn tired of it. She has awoken with a new resolve. Tonight is the last night Shan is going to be controlled by Snoke. And today is the last time some angry Sith is going to hold a sword to her throat. For tonight is her best chance--and maybe her last chance--to flee.  

 

Before she’s barefoot and pregnant and locked up by the Sith, waiting for him to kill her once his monstrous son is born.

 

Shan has the beginnings of a plan. When no one is looking, Shan hurries to stuff her saber in her largest handbag, as well as her datapad, credit card and a casual change of clothes and shoes. She's getting out of here tonight or she's going to die trying. She positions the bag just inside the doorway.

 

Then she dismisses the dressers and she is off to take her place at Snoke's side as his hostess. She feels the Sith’s gaze on her as she approaches in the slinky dress with the hem that whispers as she walks. Shan does not meet his eye. In fact, she spends hours that evening in the reception line and at his side never making eye contact. She's certain he is aware of her antipathy, but he does not comment.

 

By now, Shan is practiced in these settings and tonight, with all that is on her mind, she is usually detached. Seeing with jaundiced eyes the throng of visitors dressed in their finery for tonight's fete for the Supreme Chancellor. They have all come to pay their respects to his perceived power and to bask in its reflected limelight. Milo even has the photographers circulating inside the party tonight and not just at the entry. Clearly, Snoke intends to milk as much social and political cache as possible out of this exclusive evening. Which no doubt must be why she is permitted to attend. Shan knows her husband loves the image they present together in public.

 

Watching the parade of notables, Shan thinks of her vision of the conquered Muun city Harnaidan. Will Coruscant too be a battleground? And if so, what will happen to these people? In a civil war, how will tonight's guest list breakdown? And how will it all start? Will it be taxes, like Snoke plots, or some other flashpoint that ignites the galactic apocalypse?

 

Someday will people look back fondly on nights like tonight as belonging to the Republic's Belle Époque? As the dying gasps of an antebellum Golden Age after which nothing will ever be the same?   Or will her times be cast as a degenerate fin se siècle?   When the bloated Republic slowly broke in two, collapsing from the weight of its failing institutions and collective ennui?  

 

They say history is the winner’s side of the story, so perhaps Snoke will decide what it all means. If so, she thinks there will be one version for the public and another, truer version, for Darth Plagueis' book in his Sith library. It's a shame she won't live long enough to help him write it, Shan muses grimly. She would have liked that. For she has always loved history.

 

Shan feels Snoke's eyes and his mental gaze too considering her. She ignores him. For truly, she can't think about him or she might fall to pieces as a sobbing wreck. And then Shan would lose her nerve. However bad her future had seemed just yesterday, tonight it seems a whole lot worse. Because Sith do not forgive. Sith do not forget. And she and Snoke will never be the happy couple that the holonet photos show. That makes her sad. And now this unexpected pregnancy has her feeling more than a little desperate.   Desperate enough to again take a foolish risk.

 

An influx of security and the pop of flashbulbs heralds the arrival of someone important. It's the Supreme Chancellor and his wife accompanied by their good friend Senator Palpatine. Shan stiffens at the sight of Sidious and he shoots her a covert look that's as cold as Hoth.

 

Her husband must have seen that look because Snoke places a steady hand on her lower back.  The gesture is his usual possessive posture for parties but up until now it has been lacking tonight. Is he trying to encourage her or is this just an alpha dog show of dominance for his Apprentice? Shan still hasn't figured out the relationship between Master and Apprentice. They are allies, yet they do not seem to like one another. But Darth Plagueis is the Sith Master and he can do what he wants. Even if it means letting her live until she births their son and flaunting that fact before his disapproving Apprentice.

 

She and Snoke exchange less than ten words all evening, but Shan is her usual chatty self with everyone else, pouring on the charm with the Chancellor's wife who now wants to be Shan's best friend.   The galaxy's First Lady wants to give a dinner in Shan's honor the next time she and Snoke are in town. And is Shan free for lunch tomorrow? Unfortunately no, Shan tells her, for she leaves in the morning. But Shan promises that they will meet up the next time the Damasks are in town.

 

It's late and the party is in full swing when Shan accepts a glass of water, takes a swig and intentionally smears her lipstick. Everywhere. "Oh, dear, that was clumsy of me. The glass slipped in my hand. Did I smear?" Shan asks the First Lady at her side, knowing full well she did.

 

"Yikes, Shan, you need to go and fix that."

 

"Hego, I'll just duck down the hall to the bedroom and be right back." Her husband's eyes narrow on her and she deliberately thinks of smeared lipstick, hoping that's all he will pick up if he skims her mind. Then she turns a girlish smile on the First Lady. "Care to join me for a touch up?" She's hoping that invitation will forestall suspicion, and it does. Plus there is no way that Snoke can refuse without an explanation. Nor can he join them.

 

Shan gets her way and now she and the First Lady are headed arm and arm down the hall to fix their makeup. Shan makes an excuse to linger for a moment in the bedroom and sends her new friend on her way. Then Shan scoops up the packed and waiting handbag and heads for the door.

 

Security evidently has been warned. "Stay inside, my lady," the nearest IGBC thug growls. She smiles her warmest smile at him. "Oh, there you are! San Hill just asked for you. I think he's looking for you." Shan name drops his boss and as he pauses in confusion, she darts past.

 

It's late enough for many guests to be departing and there are six speeders idling in the valet line. Shan concentrates a moment to toss the driver out of the nearest one with the Force, and for certain now she has Snoke's attention. She hurls her bag into the empty speeder and leaps in after it. Thankfully, it's late so the press is long gone and not around to witness this. “Madame! Stop Madame!” All around are shouts for her to stop but she ignores them. San Hill has appeared now too. “Shan, stop!” He raises a weapon in her direction, but hesitates to fire.

 

Shan slams down the speeder’s throttle and she is away into the night.

 

As soon as she is sure that she isn't being followed, Shan begins to concentrate on the Sith trick she read for hiding her Force signature.  There’s no way for her to know whether it’s working. She’ll just hope for the best. And if it isn’t working, she’s going to know soon enough when the Sith come for her.

 

Shan the mousy Jedi researcher disappeared months ago on Naboo. Shan the socialite banking mogul's wife disappears tonight. Now, she's just Shan and it's time for her to find a new life.


	22. Chapter 22

_The shuttle lands gracefully with wings folding upwards like a bird come home to roost.  The ramp lowers and you hear the Sith before you see him.   An ominous telltale wheeze that strikes fear in all men.  The Sith himself has long hated the weakness the sound betrays, but he is astute enough to recognize its advantages._

_The Sith descends with the purposeful stride of a man long used to command.  A cape billows in his wake, black of course. This cloaked and masked Prince of Darkness is Muun tall, easily over two meters.   And even with a respirator and mask, he is an elegant man like his father._

_White armored troops follow behind pushing a cargo crate.  As the crate floats by, Shan sees that it is designated 'Executor' on the side.  Into the gleaming black castle fortress by the lake, this small procession marches._

_"For my Master's collection."  This is said with a sweeping gesture of a gauntleted hand.  It is the same low and slow cadenced speech as his father before him.   For in maturity, this lord is deliberate and restrained where once he had been rash.   The discipline the son lacked as a Jedi he has found as a Sith._

_When the crate is opened, it yields treasures thought to be lost.   Carefully, the manservant lifts out the gleaming blue cubes one by one.  Old Milo is one of the few left alive who knows what they are.  Lastly, the old man plucks a saber hilt from the box.   This too, the old man recognizes.  He looks up with a respectful but questioning eye._

_"Kenobi," the Sith confirms.  He says the name with satisfaction. The mask, the respirator and the weakness have at long last been avenged._

 

Shan awakes from the vision with a start.  She has seen the Sith again--Snoke's son.  And Milo.  What was Snoke's old servant doing in her vision?  None of it seems to make sense to Shan except for the name at the end.  Kenobi.  Shan knows a small Jedi padawan named Obi-wan Kenobi.  And one day, she now knows, he will lose his life to a vengeful Sith.

 

Shan is stiff as she struggles to her feet.   She has slept in a study carrell in the Coruscant University library again.  Her alma mater is the only place on this city-planet that Shan knows well and instinctively she had fled there.  Hoping to blend in as the graduate student she once was years ago. 

 

It has been ten days since Shan escaped the Sith.  Once away, she had promptly abandoned the stolen speeder.  But not before setting it on autopilot in the opposite direction she was headed.  Shan had surprised herself in this craftiness.  But stealth must be her new modus operandi if she is to survive.  She then had ducked into one of Coruscant's public transports.  The transports are crowded and anonymous.  And such is the variety of its passengers that a giant Muun woman dressed in an evening gown only garners a few strange looks.  Better still, the transports are free.  Coruscant’s city planners want to encourage public transportation on this very congested world. 

 

Free is good because Shan has very little money.  She had hurried to cash out all the credits left on her credit card.  But the card had only ever been meant for incidentals, so she had not netted much.  But at least she has something.  Coruscant is very expensive. 

 

All she owns are the clothes on her back plus her oversized handbag which is now stuffed with her silver evening gown, sandals and her jewelry.    If she gets desperate, Shan thinks she will sell her jewelry.   The kyber crystal wedding ring won’t net much since it’s not a precious stone.  But the waterfall diamond earrings will. 

 

For the first time ever, Shan is on her own. Completely responsible for herself in all things. Never has she done this before.  Even at university, she had a stipend, an academic advisor and a resident advisor.  And always, she has been a part of the Jedi Order with her Master looking over her shoulder.  Her safety nets were multiple and deep in resources.  But now Shan has no Master, no family, no real friends, no place to live and no money.  And she's pregnant and on the run from the Sith.   All in all, it's daunting. 

 

But slightly exhilarating too.  Shan can’t quite believe that she got away from Snoke.  Both that she dared to do it and that she had pulled it off.  She can’t decide which of them she had surprised more—herself or Snoke.

 

By necessity, Shan’s focus is on today, not tomorrow.  And that focus helps Shan to avoid thinking about her pregnancy.  She never wanted this child and, to be perfectly honest, she still doesn’t.  Yes, there is a baby growing inside of her—if she concentrates hard she can feel its heartbeat through the Force--but it still doesn’t feel real.  More like an abstract concept.  But were it not for the baby, Shan knows already she would be dead at the hands of the Sith.   And so, though the thought has definitely crossed her mind—she’s still feeling guilty over that--Shan is keeping this baby.  Because this baby once saved her life.  And because no matter what Master Nu says, Shan is still a Jedi.  And she knows she’s better than that.

 

Still, being a mother is not something Shan has ever considered.  And even though she is pregnant, she hasn’t warmed to the idea.  Shan doesn’t know the first thing about babies.  And right now she has no home for a child and no money for health care and baby supplies.  And if having a baby is scary, having Snoke’s baby is downright terrifying.  If it were just Shan, perhaps the Sith might let her disappear.  Good riddance to the troublesome wife.   But Shan knows Snoke will want his son. And he will keep searching for her until he finds them.  If her visions are indeed true, then ultimately Snoke will find his son.  Which makes Shan wonder if that means he also will find her. 

 

But she won’t think about the what ifs.  Shan is focused on the what nows.  And, more than anything, Shan needs a job.  She's not picky about the job as long as it pays something she can live off.  But that's harder than it sounds    Mainly because Shan lacks the identification card and visa required for legal employment on Coruscant.  Milo had kept all those documents after their arrival on Coruscant.  Plus, Shan has no work history and her skills are mainly academic. 

 

Shan does what Shan does naturally.  She researches the problem.  Employers don't exactly advertise that they flout the rules but after many holonet searches Shan comes to recognize the euphemisms for employers who will bend the rules.  She learns that there is a shadow economy of undocumented illegals such as herself.  And, predictably, they are in low wage fields that compete with droids or in disreputable businesses. 

 

After a string of automatic rejections for applications she places for run-of-the-mill service jobs, Shan is wrapping her head around the idea that her options are limited.  She can’t continue to keep Jedi mind-tricking cashiers for caf and meals.  It’s not a long term solution.  Plus, it’s dishonest and she fears that repeated use of the Force will alert the Sith to her.   So Shan is going to suck up her pride and lower her standards.  She is no longer the Jedi living in her ivory tower world.  And she is no longer the glamorous wife who lives in idle luxury.

 

Life has changed, and she has to change with it.

 

So Shan ventures down to the seedy Coruscant Lower Levels about a lead on a waitress job.  This part of the city-planet is not a place she has ever been before, and it’s every bit as bad as its reputation suggests.  The air, the buildings and the walking areas are uniformly grimy.  Natural light does not penetrate down to these depths of the city.  Everywhere is brightly lit in neon colors during the day because it is perpetually night in the underworld entertainment district.   Breathable air doesn’t filter down here either.   It’s as if all the exhaust of a million speeders and transports from above has settled down onto the Lower Levels to coalesce into a thick chemical smog that sticks in her nose and stings her eyes.  Despite the inhospitable climate, the area is crowded.  And the clientele is downright unsavory.  Shan has passed more than a few pedestrians who appear drunk or high even though it’s late morning.  And twice already she has openly been offered death sticks for sale.   

 

Shan is very glad that she has her saber handy in her bag.

 

Half an hour later, Shan finds herself standing in a rundown sports bar that’s looking to hire a waitress.  It’s the usual job description for waiting tables but with one previously undisclosed catch—waitresses here dress in skimpy outfits.  Very skimpy outfits.   Shan waits with five other girls, all human, who are seeking the job.  She and the rest are paraded around to stand in a row, like in a police lineup.    One by one, the trio of male interviewers subjectively dissects the attributes of each girl out loud.  As if they were not each standing within easy earshot.  These interviewers ask very few questions.  Mostly they make observations.   

 

Finally, they get to Shan.

 

“Muuns don't sell well. And she’s too tall. That’s off-putting for human men, and they are our main customer.”  

 

“Yeah, and she’s really thick for a Muun.  She walks well in heels though.  Graceful for a gal that big.” 

 

“She’s got great tits.    More like a Twi’lek than a Muun.  They swing like they’re real too.  Customers can get pretty discriminating about these things.  What’s her day job?”

 

“Her application says she’s a graduate student.”  

 

“They all say that.   I’ll bet none of these girls has ever seen the inside of a library.” 

 

A woman has walked in to stand in the back of the room silently observing.  She is small and lithe looking and encased in tight black leather.   The leather matches the heavy kohl makeup that rings her eyes.  Her long hair is a shade of red-pink not found in nature. 

 

“How old?” 

 

“Says she’s 25.”

 

“Nah, more like 29 with good skin.”

 

“Hey, walk for us again, will you?   Yeah, you—the big Muun.”

 

Shan dutifully complies.   Doing her best ‘I’m Hego’s arm candy’ strut.  She’s not proud, and she needs this job.

 

Then the red haired woman from the back of the room speaks up.  Her voice is loud and sharp with a pronounced Mid Rim drawl.  “You there.  Have you ever been a hostess?”  The woman strides forward into the room as she speaks.  She moves at a fast clip despite the spike heeled purple boots she wears.   From the quick deference the men show her and her air of ownership, she's clearly the boss lady of this club.

 

“Yes,” Shan answers.   That’s not technically a lie.  She has been a party hostess, just not the restaurant/club hostess this woman has in mind.

 

“Yeah, you look pretty poised.  Here.  Read this.”  The boss lady thrusts a datapad under Shan’s nose.  It’s open to a Coruscant Times news article about, of all things, the Naboo Senator Palpatine.   It’s a weird coincidence.  But again, Shan does as requested. 

 

“That’s nice Basic.  Posh accent too.”  The woman muses aloud.   Her male employees all hastily nod and murmur their agreement with this assessment.  To a man, they are eager to please her.  “But she won’t fit the dress.  She’s too fucking big for that gown and I can’t get one in her size by tonight.”

 

Wait?  Did they say she needed a gown for this job?  “I have a gown,” Shan speaks up.  “I have a fancy dress with me.” 

 

The woman nods thoughtfully.  “Okay, let’s see it.  Go in there and put it on.”  She gestures to the ladies’ room behind her.

 

Shan rushes to change into the silver gown she saved.  Shan emerges and the woman waves her back into the lineup.  “Stand over there.  Yes, now turn around.  Slowly.  I want to see it from all angles.”  The boss lady stares at her a long moment.  “Are those the shoes?” she wants to know.  Shan has forgotten that she has the matching silver evening sandals in her hand.  “Let me see,” the woman grabs one from Shan and inspects it.  Then hands it back.  “Come into the office,” she tells Shan.  Then she tells the three men to carry on.

 

Now Shan and the red haired woman are in the business office of the club and Shan is not quite sure what’s going on other than the fact that this woman seems very interested in her.   She waves Shan into a seat opposite a large desk.  Then the woman leans against the desk and stares hard at Shan. 

 

“What’s your name?”

 

“Shan.”

 

“Shan what?”

 

“Just Shan.”

 

“Okay.”  This evasion makes the woman smirk.  “Who are you, Shan?”  The woman sits back with her arms crossed and raises one eyebrow.    

 

“I’m a graduate student.”

 

“Yeah?”  The woman’s tone conveys her skepticism.  She waves a hand at Shan to gesture to the shoes she’s still holding.  Her fingernails are filed to sharp points and painted purple like her boots.  “Since when do graduate students wear shoes that cost two thousand credits?”  When Shan hesitates, the woman gets impatient.   “Look, honey, when you have been in this business as long as I have, you learn how to spot credits at a glance.  And you look like credits in that get up.  So tell me--where did you get the shoes?”

 

Honestly, Shan has no idea where these shoes came from.  They were chosen, along with the rest of her Madame Damask wardrobe, by the dressers Milo arranges.  So she lies.  “I bought them on sale.  At a resale shop.”

 

Again, one eyebrow raises.  “And the dress?  It’s a good dress.  Looks good on you.  Who made that dress?”

 

“I don’t know.”  This is truthful.   “It was on sale too,” Shan adds less than convincingly.

 

“Yeah, right.  Let me guess—it was at that same fucking resale shop, right?”  The woman’s kohl rimmed eyes are drilling into Shan. 

 

“Yes?” The word ends up, more like a question.  Shan never could lie.    She’s had very little practice.  There’s no point in lying to her fellow Jedi because they always know it.

 

“That dress fits you like a glove even though you are probably one of the biggest, tallest Muun girls I have ever seen.  What a nice coincidence that this resale shop has a matching designer dress and shoes in your giant size.” 

 

Shan blanches and swallows hard.  It looks like there is no way she is getting this job. 

 

“Spill your shit, Shan.  If you have a dress and shoes that nice, why the Hell do you want a job here?”

 

It’s a fair question and Shan tries to be truthful.  “I didn’t buy them for myself.  I could never afford them.”

 

“Did your boyfriend buy them for you?  Are you some Muun banker’s girl on the side when he’s in Coruscant?”

 

“Uhh . . . .”  How does she answer that?

 

“Yes or no,” the woman prompts her.

 

Well, not really.  Again, Shan tries to be truthful.  “Yes, I had a . . . a . . . uh friend who was a banker and he bought me the clothes.  He was rich.”

 

“A rich Muun banker?  Is there any other kind?”  The woman snorts and rolls her eyes.  She is as free with her opinions as she is with her profanity.  “Good for you for bagging a generous one.  Most Muuns are cheap fucking bastards.  Did he dump you?”

 

Shan blinks at this personal question.  “Yeah.  Something like that,” she says softly and looks down.

 

Once again, the woman sits back with her arms crossed.   “I know a bit about Muun culture.   I know that it’s very traditional.  A pretty girl like you should be married by now with a kid on the way.”  She looks Shan over and frowns.  “You should go home to your family.  You can do better than a job like this.”  It’s an odd thing for this woman to say, since she’s the one hiring.  But she sounds and looks sincere.  And weirdly motherly.

 

“I don't have any family,” Shan says matter of fact.   She looks the red haired woman in the eye and speaks bluntly.  “I’m on my own and I need a job.  I need a job badly.  Today.”

 

The woman chews over this information in silence.  Then she begins her own stream of consciousness assessment of Shan like the trio of men in the other room.  “You’re not the normal girl who comes through here.  Look at you.  You’re sitting up with good posture and talking to me with perfectly accented Basic.  You look comfortable and elegant in that slick dress, like you’re used to wearing it.   I could almost believe that you’re someone in that dress.  You’re classy like that, Shan.”

 

“Thank you.”  The patrician social nod Madame Damask uses slips out in the moment. 

 

“There—see!  You’re classy.  Shan, are you really a grad student?”

 

“I was once.”

 

Again, those kohl rimmed eyes drill into Shan.  “Let me guess—before you hooked up with the banker, right?  And now he’s thrown you out, cut off the money and you’re on your own?”

 

“I really need this job,” Shan repeats.  She’s trying to keep the lies to a minimum or she’ll never keep them straight.

 

The woman frowns.  “You’re being very cagey, Shan.  Are you in trouble?  Because I don’t like trouble at my clubs.  I don’t want to worry about some pissed off Muun dude busting in my club to beat the shit out of you.   Because that’s what happened to the last girl.”

 

Shan doesn’t know how to answer this.  Somehow she can’t imagine Snoke ever setting foot in some girlie club, no matter how posh.  The man is far too refined.  And arrogant.

 

When she hesitates, the woman’s eyes narrow on Shan.  “Are you running away from something?  From someone?”

 

Shan looks away.  “I guess you could say I’m a runaway.”

 

The boss lady sniffs at this.  “Runaways are sixteen-year-old girls, Shan. Not grown women who are close to thirty.”  She shrugs.  “Alright, keep your secrets.  I’ve got a few myself, so I understand.”

 

“I own this club and a lot more like it.  I’m a business woman and I sell my customers one thing—fantasy.  I make my money off the food and the liquor, but they don’t really matter.  The men are here for the girls.   At my lower priced and mid-range clubs, they come for a younger, prettier version of their wives.  They want an upgrade to what they have a home.  It’s where I put the girl next door types.  That’s not you, Shan.”

 

“At my elite club, the customers want something special.  These are men who already have beautiful wives and mistresses.   They come in for the unusual.  Some want a fetish but most just want a different species of humanoid or something other than what they have at home.  That’s where I would put you, Shan.  Because you are beautiful and classy and memorable.  And you look hot in that dress.”

 

Shan doesn’t know whether to be flattered or not by this speech.

 

“Shan, I need a hostess who can start tonight at my best club in the Uscru District.  The regular gal got beat up bad by her boyfriend last night and she’s not fit to be seen right now.  The fucking asshole really messed her up. So I need a substitute to welcome the guests and show them to a table.  The job is to look pretty, act pleasant and move gracefully.  Can you do that?”

 

“Yes.”  Did Shan hear right?  Is this a job offer?

 

“My customers are discriminating.  You need to look good.  Wear that dress and put on some makeup.  But not too much.  Have you got any jewelry?”

 

Yes, yes she does.  “I have earrings.”  Shan reaches into her bag to pull out the earrings from Snoke.

 

“Let me see.”  Her new boss fingers the earrings.  Then scratches at one with a mercenary gleam in her eye.   She whistles.  “A very rich Muun banker indeed.”  She hands them back.  “Yes, those should do nicely.  This club opens for drinks and dinner and then stays open all night.  Go home and take a nap.  You’ll be up all night.”

 

“I need a place to stay,” Shan confesses.

 

“There’s a few small rooms under the main club.  You can stay in one of those for now.  Here’s the address.  Tell the doorman I sent you and go by today to settle in and get your beauty sleep.  My customers pay to see young, happy and fresh looking girls.” 

 

“Okay, thanks.”  Shan’s relief is evident in her tone.

 

Her boss looks faintly amused at this.  “Aren’t you going to ask what the job pays?”

 

Oh, yeah.  Shan has forgotten about that.  She reddens.  Shan has never had a real paying job before.

 

The boss names a sum.

 

“Okay,” Shan quickly agrees.   Then instantly remembers that she should negotiate.  How Snoke would laugh at her if he were a fly on the wall for this conversation.

 

The boss purses her lips and shoots Shan a sideways glance.  “How badly do you need the money?   Many of our girls make extra money on the side for sex with customers.  Are you interested?”

 

“No.”  Shan says this weakly, trying not to sound horrified that this is the climate she’s getting herself into.  She really has sunk low in life.  But at least she’s alive.

 

The woman chuckles knowingly.  “No?  You mean not yet.”  She stands to signal that the interview is over and holds out her hand.  Shan shakes it and wow is this woman’s grip is firm.  “I’m Cresta,” her new boss reveals.  “Cresta Cole.  I’ll see you tonight, Shan.”

 

An hour later, Shan is out of the Underground and at the Uscru Entertainment District to find her new job.  It’s a club called Le Tout-Coruscant and it’s a little ways off from the main strip with the opera house and the big A-list clubs the glitterati frequent.  But it looks decent enough.   The doorman lets Shan in and someone shows her to a room downstairs.  It’s not much—a cot and a vanity with a mirror—but it’s home for now.   

 

The constant mental effort required to hide in the Force is tiring.  Early pregnancy is tiring.  And it’s been eleven days since Shan has slept lying down in a bed.   She is tired.   So the minute Shan lies down she is deeply asleep. 

 

And in her sleep, somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind, she hears the voice of her Sith.  _Come back, Shan.  I know that you hear me.   Come back, Shan.   You will never make it on your own.  And you do not have to._     Was it Snoke's voice or her own self-doubts surfacing in a dream?    Shan isn't certain.  And right now, she’s too tired to care.


	23. Chapter 23

_You cannot hide forever, Shan.  I will find you.  I am your destiny._

“Snoke?”  Shan is not certain whether she thinks this or says it aloud.  She is in the netherworld between sleep and awake. 

 

_Yessss.  Come home to me.  I will forgive you.  Return to your Sith._

“I’m scared.”

 

_Come home to me.  I will forgive you._

“Oh!”  Shan comes awake with a start.  She shoots up in bed, her heart racing.  Her eyes dart around the small room and, of course, she’s alone.  It was just another wishful thinking dream about Snoke forgiving her and taking her back.  But after Shan has betrayed him twice and fled from him, there’s no possibility of forgiveness.  And the conflicts between them remain, so there’s no realistic shot at reconciliation.   Whatever was between them is over now, Shan tells herself.   She just needs to get over it.

 

But her dreams keep telling her otherwise.  She sighs.  Shan is starting to understand why her husband never sleeps.  Because sometimes sleep is not the peaceful refuge you want it to be. 

 

Shan grabs her datapad and checks the time.  It’s 3 p.m.  Time to get up.  She has two hours before the club opens for the after work drinks crowd.  Shan stifles a yawn and begins her daily ritual of searching the holonet for Hego Damask.   The Sith has become a bit of an obsession for her.  It’s one part paranoia, one part curiosity, and one part self-inflicted heartbreak. 

 

There’s no new press on her husband today.  But there is something about her.  It’s a blind item in the Muun gossip press.  ‘What tall drink of water seems to have disappeared from the social scene after appearing everywhere on her husband’s arm this fall?  No one has seen this newlywed since she took Coruscant by storm months ago.  Is she truly ill, as her husband explains, or could there be trouble in marital paradise?’

 

Yikes, Shan cringes.  Snoke will not be happy to read that.  Shan has been wondering how her absence has been explained, and now she knows.  If Snoke finds her and kills her, he can just explain to the press that his wife passed away after her long illness.   Hego Damask will be the tragically bereft newlywed widower.  And then he can move on to find wife number six.   

 

What a depressing thought. 

 

She scrolls back to the holonet entries from months ago for the IGBC Coruscant senate receptions. The photograph that was most widely published shows her and Snoke standing next to the Supreme Chancellor and First Lady, with Senator Palpatine on the other side.  The two secret Siths flank the nominal head of the Republic. Shan knows that they have the Chancellor surrounded, not just in the photograph but in real life too.

 

Had she not fled that night, Snoke would have dropped a datapad with that picture on the table next to her at breakfast the next morning.  Together they would have laughed at the private joke he could only share with her and Sidious.  And that thought makes Shan a bit wistful.  She doesn't regret leaving, but she regrets that their differences drove them apart.  Rather spectacularly so.  For Shan doesn't think she can ever forgive Darth Plagueis swinging his sword to execute her. 

 

And that awful day is why she has landed here at the fifth most exclusive gentleman’s club in Coruscant.  The Hutts own the four nicest clubs patronized by Senators, lobbyists, visiting potentates and business moguls.  By comparison, Cresta Cole’s premiere club is a second tier, bargain rate version for slightly less exclusive clientele.   Every night, Shan seats a mix of upper and middle manager types on business to the galactic capital.  Men with expense accounts entertaining clients.  Men with some money and position but no real power outside of their organization.    They are the apex worker bees of the galaxy’s largest corporations and institutions, but not the moguls who own and control them.  And that affluent but somewhat anonymous customer is ideal because Shan does not want to be recognized. 

 

All in all, hostessing is not a bad job.  She doesn’t have to wait tables and her interaction with the customers is brief.   They might feel free to grope and proposition their waitresses all night, but mostly they just look at Shan from across the room.  And, bizarrely enough, her prior life as Madame Damask has given her all the skills she needs for this job.  From the ability to stand for hours in heels to the quick meet and greet impression she makes on customers.   Her current life is a world away from her former one, but oddly similar all the same.

 

The nights are long but Shan gets to sleep all day.  She needs this more and more with her hidden pregnancy.  Luckily, Shan is not showing yet.  She’s so tall and long waisted and this is a first baby, so her bump looks more like bloating.  Plus, with her first pay check, Shan bought a girdle.  So far that is keeping her figure reasonably the same.  And she’s being very careful to eat the bare minimum.  But it’s only a matter of time before the truth comes out and Shan gets fired.   And then she’ll be back to sleeping in the university library again and mind-tricking her way through petty crimes to live. 

 

Tonight is like most nights at the beginning of the week, and the late night crowd is thin.  Cresta closes an hour early after the last customers depart and sends everyone home.  All except Shan, who lives downstairs and is essentially already home.  And that proximity makes Shan a regular captive audience for her boss’ late night gab sessions.  Cresta likes to talk when she's had a drink or two, which is most nights.  And she's the boss, so Shan just plays along as the listening ear.  Shan has long known that she is one of those women who people like to tell things to.  On Snoke’s arm at parties, she heard mostly political and business gossip.  But with Cresta, Shan hears her monologue of opinions on everything from her businesses to taxes to shoes.  And peppered in the mix are details about her boss’ private life.   Shan listens intently but with a grain of salt.  The Force tells her that not all of what she hears is true.

 

Cresta Cole is all sharp eyes and brassy talk in her boss lady role to the public.  But Shan has observed that her employer’s brusque demeanor relaxes a bit when you get her on her own.  Cresta must need a friend, Shan thinks, or maybe just an audience.  Or maybe Cresta thinks Shan is the one who needs a friend.  In any event, the boss is back again sitting in her room and sipping wine.  Tonight, she is nosing around about Shan.

 

“What’s your story, Shan?  You don't drink.  Don’t do spice or death stix.  So what is it?  Why can’t you do better than this club?  Have you got a criminal record?” 

 

Shan frowns.  Cresta already knows that Shan is undocumented.  That’s the real reason she has this job and not a better one.  But apparently that’s not a satisfying answer anymore. 

 

“Come on, spit it out.  I’ve been in this business a long time, so I know that there's a sad story behind  every one of my girls.  I’ve heard them all, Shan.  I’ve even lived a few myself.   You can’t shock me.  How does a grad student at the galaxy’s best university end up working for me?”

 

“Cresta, you know I don’t have papers.” 

 

“Yeah, I know.  But I don’t know why.”  Cresta is persistent.  Which isn’t surprising.  Everything about Shan’s boss seems very determined.  “Why don’t you start by telling me about him?”

 

“About who?”

 

“About the man.  There’s always a man behind why girls end up here.  Some absent or abusive father, the criminal boyfriend who got you in with the wrong crowd, some drug-pushing pimp.”  She levels Shan a pointed look.  “Or some rich banker boyfriend who dumps you.  Tell me about the guy who did you wrong, Shan.”    Shan shifts uncomfortably, but her boss keeps prodding for confidences.  “Okay, I’ll start.  ‘There was this guy and I met him at a . . .’”

 

“At a picnic.” 

 

“A picnic?  Oh, that’s very wholesome.  Very you, Shan.”  Cresta thinks a moment, then complains, “Tell me it wasn’t a church picnic.”

 

“Actually, it kind of was.”  Babysitting a bunch of Jedi padawans had been what started Shan on the road to ruin. 

 

“Oh, I’m gonna vomit.  That’s so cliché.  What happened next?  When did you see him again?”

 

“Later that night,” Shan confesses.    

 

Cresta nods approvingly at this.  “Okay, and how long until you fucked him?” 

 

Shan thinks back.  Those first few days with Snoke in the temple seem like a lifetime ago.  But they were just last spring.  “Four days, I think.”

 

“Four days?  You're less wholesome than I thought.”  Cresta seems to approve of this too.  “How long were you together?”

 

“About eight months.”

 

Her boss digests this information.   Then asks quietly, “Did he tell you he loved you?”

 

Shan shakes her head.  “No.”  It hurts to confess this, actually.  It makes Shan feel like an even bigger fool.   If she were going to throw her life away, she should have done it for love.   Not for a silver dress with matching shoes, earrings and a kyber crystal ring.  And a baby she’s still not sure she wants. 

 

Cresta sighs heavily.  And her face softens.  “It’s just as well.  Love is a lie, Shan.  Trust me on that.  I’ve been in this business long enough to know that for certain.  Most of the men I sell to go home to their wives and girlfriends and profess their love.  Even though they just paid good credits to fuck their waitress.  It’s a shitty business, Shan.  Get some money and get out of it as soon as you can.”

 

Shan can hear the truth of these words.  And the good intentions behind the cynicism.  “How did you get into this business?” she asks, looking over at the glib forty something red head who seems to have come from the school of hard knocks. 

 

Cresta takes a long drink of her wine before answering.  “Oh, I started out as a dancer like most girls.  It seemed like quick and easy money.  By the second day, I was fucking the boss.  And not the small-time boss, the big-time owner boss.”  Cresta Cole is still proud of this achievement, it seems.  “I was ambitious like that.  We were together a few years until the Hutts put a hit on him and he was found dead one night in the Underground.  Yeah,” Cresta’s voice trails off for a moment before she adds, “I loved that fucker even though he cheated on me every chance he got.”

 

There is a moment of sympathetic silence before Cresta is back to talking about business.  “The Hutts still control most of the vice here on Coruscant.  And not just the Lower Level dive stuff.  All the way up to the nicest places down the street.  They mostly leave me alone so long as I don’t directly compete with them.  Yeah, I’d be paying the Hutts protection money too except I cut a deal to keep them off my back.  There’s a fellow I know who has connections to keep the Hutts at bay.  It saves me twenty percent a year and it funds my retirement plan.”

 

Shan smiles to think of Cresta and her retirement plan.  Saving for retirement seems a very conventional concern for a woman who is part club entrepreneur and part madam.  But it’s also smart and pragmatic, Shan realizes, which is very much like her street smart boss.  Cresta Cole is a woman who looks out for herself, if nothing else. 

 

“So you pay this guy and he arranges so you don’t have to pay the Hutts?”  Shan asks offhand.  “I didn’t think you could get around the Hutts.”

 

“Sheev.  His name is Sheev.  And I don’t pay him.  I fuck him.”  Her boss doesn’t seem the least bit embarrassed to admit to this quid pro quo.   She smirks.  “That asshole thinks he loves me.  That’s what happens when you fuck a man for too many years.  They think they’re in love.”

 

Shan laughs at this.  “So does this mean that you don’t love this guy Sheev?”

 

“I love that he keeps the Hutts off my back,” Cresta laughs.   “Yeah . . . you should get out of this business, Shan.  Soon because it’s a big taint on the rest of your life.  You stay here too long and no respectable man will ever want you.”

 

Shan can hear the weight of an unspoken past behind this advice.  But Shan doesn’t pry.  She just suggests mildly, “Maybe you should get out of this business too.  Have you ever thought about selling out?”

 

Cresta rolls her eyes and takes another long drink of wine.  “Now you sound like Sheev.  It is a taint, Shan.  Believe me.  Once people know you were a dancer or worked in a club, they just assume you are a whore.  And I suppose maybe that’s reasonable because many of the girls do turn tricks on the side.  But trust me, it matters.  No respectable man wants to be married to a whore.   If you spend too long in a place like this, the best you’ll ever get is to be some man’s mistress.  And I don’t have to tell you how shitty those relationships can be for women.”  She frowns off into space.  “That’s the most I’ll ever be now.  A powerful man’s secret mistress.”

 

“You’re a lot more than that,” Shan tells her, and she means it.  This foul mouthed boss lady has some admirable qualities.  Chief among them, the fact that she had given Shan a job and a place to stay rent-free. 

 

“Thanks.  You know, Shan, the more I get to know you, the more I think I had you all wrong and you really are the girl next door type.  The affair with the banker guy was a one-off.  You are the girl who should end up married with kids to some guy who will take care of you.   You're far too ladylike for this business.  I don't think I've ever heard you even swear.” 

 

“I swear,” Shan objects good naturedly.  And it’s a lie. 

 

“Yeah,” her boss grins broadly at this boast.  “Let’s hear it, then.”

 

“Uh,” Shan thinks a moment.  Then, “Damn!”

 

Cresta laughs out loud and sloshes wine out of her glass in the process.  “That was weak, Shan.  Just weak.   Come on, I want to hear you really let loose.  Tell me what you would say to your banker ex if he walked in right now.”

 

Shan thinks a moment and then looks away.  And wipes at her eye.

 

“Oh fuck! You're in love with him!” Cresta accuses loudly.  Then she immediately backpedals at Shan’s shocked reaction.  “Forget I said that.”  It’s a mumbled apology of sorts.

 

“No,” Shan rushes to deny it anyway.  “I don’t love him.  I just wish it could have worked out, that’s all.”

 

“It never works out when they have a wife, Shan.  And whether they admit it or not, there is always a wife.”  Cresta fixes her with a knowing look.  Giving Shan her best big sisterly advice on illicit romance.    

 

No doubt this woman has vast experience, Shan thinks, to draw upon for wisdom.  An awkward moment of silence follows before Shan breaks it.

 

“I’m pregnant.”  Shan blurts out on impulse. 

 

“Fuck!”  Cresta slams her wine glass down and again spills the drink.   “How far along?” she demands.

 

“Close to five months now.  I think.”

 

Cresta’s eyes widen and her gaze goes straight to Shan’s middle.  “That’s late.   You gonna keep it?  You might have to keep it now.”

 

“Yes, I’m going to keep it,” Shan confirms. 

 

“So how long until a Muun starts to show?”  The diminutive Cresta is looking at Shan critically now.  “Yeah, I sort of see it now.  How can you be five fucking months and barely showing?  I had busted out of my regular clothes by--”  Cresta abruptly stops.

 

“Because I’m a two meter Muun and I have a lot of space to hide a baby.”  And because Shan has been eating as little as possible the past few months to keep from gaining weight.  Which hasn’t been hard because she’s had no appetite to speak of.  “I think I’ve got another month or so that I can hide it,” Shan confesses. 

 

“Is this that banker’s kid?” her boss wants to know.

 

“Yes.”  Admitting this out loud has a tear sliding down Shan’s cheek. 

 

Cresta moves to sit beside her on the cot, reaching to put an arm around her.  “Don’t worry, Shan.  We’ll think of something.  Maybe we can find you something to do in the back office once you start to show.  Does he know?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Awww, don’t cry.  That asshole’s not worth your tears.  Men are such fuckers.  They will buy you fancy clothes and wine and dine you to get into bed.  Or fuck you at a picnic or whatever you did together.  But when there’s a kid, they run the other way.  Let me guess—he’s married, right?”

 

“Yes, he’s married.”  It’s a convenient truth and also a misleading lie.  Snoke would have approved of that answer, Shan thinks. 

 

“Well, don’t worry.  It will be okay in the end.  If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, that’s it.  It will all be okay in the end.”  Her boss is awkwardly patting at Shan’s knee now but it feels just as good as a hug.

 

“Thanks, Cresta.”  Shan smiles a little through her tears.   “I need to hear that.  I really need to hear that.”

 

“Have you got a plan for the future?”  Cresta has already moved on to the practicalities. 

 

“I’ll sell my earrings,” Shan divulges between sniffs into a tissue.

 

“Let me help you do that,” her boss offers.  “Those are worth a fortune, Shan.  You'll get taken if you aren't careful.   Those earrings could get you enough to live off for a while with the kid.   Especially if you live on a less expensive world.”

 

“Thanks, I’d like your help.”  Shan gladly accepts this offer.  “And thanks for not being mad about my not telling you I was pregnant when you hired me.”

 

The red head shrugs.  “I knew you were hiding something, Shan.   I just didn't know what.  You're a terrible liar.”

 

As life would have it, Shan only gets another three weeks before her baby belly pops.  Really pops.  Now no girdle will hide her secret any longer.  So she and Cresta have agreed that tonight is the last night Shan will be hostessing at the club.  One of the waitresses has just finished doing her makeup—Shan has yet to learn how to do her own face—and now she is struggling to zip the silver dress.  After a few wiggles, it zips. 

 

Shan considers herself critically in the vanity mirror of her tiny room.   Her breasts are a little fuller—Snoke would have loved that.  And she is definitely much thicker through the middle, although it’s most noticeable when she turns to the side.  Oddly enough, her arms and legs seem slimmer.  Shan isn’t sure if that’s because all of her weight is shifting to her midsection or whether her spare eating is showing.  And that makes her smile and remember how her husband used to harp that he didn’t like skinny women.   As if skinny were ever a real risk for her, Shan grunts to herself.

 

She wonders sometimes what her husband would think if he knew how she was living.   Her Sith prince so prizes his respectability.  Would he be contemptuous of her?   Angry that she had chosen this life over being locked up in his Muunilinst penthouse?  Then she remembers that Snoke had once married a slave girl he bought off a Hutt.   So maybe he might be moved to understand her plight.   She has daydreamed now and then about what would happen if Snoke were to walk into the club.  They are fanciful rom-com endings where he confesses his love, promises not to kill her or lock her up, and then whisks her back to her life of ease.  Not the real world scenarios where he calls her a Jedi whore as he nabs her and hides her away.  Then five minutes after the baby is born, his eyes are yellow and his saber flashes red and it’s the last thing she sees as he yells some melodrama about betraying her Sith.  

 

At long last, Shan feels ready to come to grips with the reality of her situation.   Shan can feel the baby move now.  And sometimes she thinks that she can feel the baby’s imprint in the Force.  For the baby has the Force--Shan is certain of that.  She’s begun researching free health clinics on the holonet.  Shan has never seen a doctor about her pregnancy and that’s starting to worry her.  And next week, she thinks she’ll approach Cresta about selling her earrings.  She’s hoping her friend is right and they are very valuable. 

 

Shan is standing before the mirror when she feels the rush of Force as a vision overtakes.  She’s alone and instinctively, Shan dives for the bed as her physical world fades to black. 

 

_It is the most natural act, as old as life itself. But that does not make it easy or painless.   A woman lays in childbirth, her face and figure obscured but her gasps and grunts of pain clear.  We may leave life peacefully, but rarely do we enter it so._

_The woman is in hiding, the birth will be a secret.  For there is a husband, a father, and he is Sith.  Once he had threatened the woman, nearly killing her for a betrayal.  For she chose the Jedi, she sought the Light, she rejected her Sith.  And, in the end, she does die._

_And so an orphan boy child will be whisked away and watched over as he grows.   And years later, a Jedi will hand him his parent's sword and urge him on to a fool's idealistic crusade.  All will go as expected until one day when the boy grown will meet the Sith._

_"I am your father," the Sith will reveal and the boy will deny it.  For Snoke is right once again--few people recognize the truth when they hear it.  Not even this confused and motherless son._

 

“Shan, are you okay?”  She hears Cresta’s voice from far off. 

 

“Huhhh?”

 

“You fainted, Shan.  Luckily, you just keeled over onto your bed.  Are you okay?”  Now the voice is clearer and the familiar face with heavy dark eye makeup and a cloud of red-pink hair comes into focus.  Shan’s boss is looming over her looking concerned.  Behind her stand at least four waitresses come to see what is the matter.  Shan’s tiny little room is packed.

 

“Yes . . . yes.  I think so.  Yes, I’m fine now.”

 

“Good.  Can you sit up?  Here’s some water.”  Cresta shoves a glass into Shan’s hand.    Then she turns to the crowd behind her.  “Okay, girls, everyone out.  Give Shan some space.”

 

“Thanks,” Shan tells her and she means it for both the water and the privacy.

 

“Sure.  Are you really okay now?  Fainting is one of those weird pregnancy things.”

 

“Yes,” Shan confirms.  “I’m alright.”

 

“Good, because then maybe you can tell me about this.”  Cresta is holding Shan’s lightsaber in her left hand.  Her right hand is on her hip.  “When you fell over you bumped your bag off the table and this fell out.  I got here first and I was the only one who saw.”

 

Uh oh.  Shan is struggling to come up with an explanation for the sword.  Because, as Cresta has told her, Shan is a terrible liar. 

 

Shan hesitates too long and her boss starts talking.  “This explains a lot, Shan.  I know what it is.  I have a friend who has one.  Don’t lie to me and say it isn’t yours.  I know that you can’t just buy one of these.”

 

“It’s mine,” Shan nods.  “That’s my lightsaber.”

 

Cresta is looking at her now with an expression somewhere between a squint and a frown.  “So, you’re a fucking Jedi, Shan?”

 

“Was a Jedi.”  Both her Master and her husband have told her that.  But this is the first time Shan has said it out loud.  And admitted it to herself.

 

“Did they throw you out?”

 

Shan thinks back on that awful conversation with Master Nu.  Her face darkens.  “Yes.  Pretty much.” 

 

“Did they know you were pregnant?” Cresta wants to know.

 

“Yes.”  Master Nu had known even before Shan. 

 

Crest scowls as she hands over the lightsaber.  Then she sits on the bed beside Shan.  “That’s what I hate about religion.  All the fucking sanctimony.  They always talk a good game about forgiveness and goodness and then when shit goes wrong they get all judgy.  Yeah, I’ve seen that little green guy on the holonet—the grand wizard or whatever the fuck he is.  I forget his name.  The one who speaks backwards.  He seems very judgy.”

 

“Master Yoda,” Shan supplies his name.  And yes, she silently agrees, Master Yoda can be a bit judgmental. 

 

“Yeah, he’s the one.”  Cresta looks her up and down, as if seeing Shan anew.  “So you were a Jedi nun until you met this married banker at a picnic and fucked him four days later?”

 

Well, close enough, Shan thinks to herself.  “Yes.” 

 

The red head smiles suddenly.  Mischievously.  “That’s kind of romantic.   Forbidden love.”

 

“Yes,” Shan concedes with a sigh, “It was very forbidden.”  She was Jedi and he was Sith.  And that was the problem.  “Look Cresta, I need you to keep this secret.  Please—you have to keep this secret.  From everyone.  The girls might freak out if they knew I was once Jedi.  It makes people uncomfortable some times.”

 

“Yeah, okay.  I understand, Shan.  But that banker should be paying for his kid, you know.   Who the fuck does he think he is?  What kind of guy knocks up a virgin Force priestess and walks away?”

 

“Cresta, it’s better this way.  He’s not a good man.”  That’s the understatement of year.  Maybe of the decade.  Her boss might mean well, but she doesn’t understand the situation at all.

 

“Yeah, well, he’s a rich man,” Cresta points out.  “And credits are what you need right now.”

 

Shan looks her in the eye.  “I don’t want anything to do with him, Cresta.  He’s not a good man.  He once almost killed me.”

 

Her boss looks puzzled as she folds her arms across her chest.  “You say that, but you’re still hung up on the guy.”

 

“It’s true,” Shan admits.  “And it’s complicated.”

 

“By complicated, do you mean that you are hiding more secrets, Shan?  Because so far you’ve turned out to have some good ones.”  Cresta says this lightheartedly with a smile and one raised eyebrow.  And it makes Shan smile a bit too. 

 

“Okay, don’t answer that,” Cresta backs off when Shan stays quiet.  And this too she says lightly.  “But show me those earrings again.  I think I found a legit place to sell them at a fair price.” 

 

Shan reaches to take off an earring and offers it to her boss. 

 

Cresta hesitates.  Then when she reaches to accept the earring, Shan sees that she’s looking not at the jewel but at Shan’s scarred left palm.   The red head’s mouth is open and she’s staring.

 

Shan snatches back her hand.

 

And Cresta continues as if nothing has happened.  “Yeah, these are beautiful.”  She fingers the jewel and holds it up to the light.  “The real thing sparkles so much more than the fakes.  And these are so elegant and sized perfectly proportionate to you, Shan.  It’s a shame that you have to sell them.”

 

“It’s okay.  I need the credits.”  Shan shrugs.  She isn’t sentimental about the jewelry.  She’s just glad that she has it to sell.  Jedi girls don’t grow up with the custom of gifts of jewelry from loved ones.    And physical adornment generally is discouraged as false pride. 

 

“So what happened to your hand?” Cresta asks nonchalantly as she hands back the earring.  “That’s an ugly scar.  Looks like a knife wound.”

 

“Yes,” Shan answers simply.

 

And she’s surprised when the habitually nosey Cresta doesn’t pursue the point.  Instead, her friend turns toward Shan and tells her, “Let’s go and sell these tomorrow afternoon.  I think it’s time that you started making real plans for the future now.  I want to help you.  But you can’t stay here much longer, Shan.”


	24. Chapter 24

Nothing goes on in the Urscru District during daylight hours. But today the club is especially quiet. Shan is up a little early this afternoon. For today is the day she’s going with Cresta Cole to sell her diamond earrings. 

Shan has stuffed herself into the one casual dress she owns. Where once the dress had been fashionably sleek but comfortable, it is now painted on, stretched tight against her burgeoning waist and hiked a few inches shorter now to just below the knee. The only saving grace is that the dress is a slimming dark grey. Now that the dress is on, Shan sits down heavily on the edge of her bed to begin the herculean task of putting on her boots. It’s gotten harder to bend lately. It makes her hips hurt from the pressure of the baby.

Through the open door, she hears Cresta’s voice hollering from down the hall along with her quick, clicking steps in the stilettos she favors. “Shan? Shan, let's leave. The speeder is waiting and it’s double parked.” 

“Okay, I’m coming in a minute,” she calls back, still struggling with her left boot. Her slightly swollen ankles are not helping matters. There. Done. Shan throws her bag across her body. She’s taking both her earrings and the wedding ring with her on the off chance that she can get some credits for selling the ring too. And, as always, her saber is tucked inside her bag. 

She hears Cresta’s voice again from down the hallway. She’s complaining to someone. “Who let you in?” 

A man’s voice answers and it’s vaguely familiar but less distinct and definitely less loud. “--are the hottest thing in heels, and you know it. Get over here, Red. I've only got two hours between meetings.” 

“Do lines like that get you laid with your Senate staffers? Because only credits get you laid here.” 

Cresta’s clicking heels get closer and now Shan can hear the entire conversation even though she’s not trying to eavesdrop. She still can’t place the man’s voice. He’s not one of the bouncers or the other club managers.

The man sounds annoyed. “I’m not looking for one of your girls and you know it, Cresta. Now come on, I'm a busy man.” 

And now Cresta also sounds annoyed. “I’m busy too. I've got plans this afternoon. Come back tomorrow. Or better yet, call before you drop by unannounced.”

“What's more important than me?” the man cajoles.

“Plenty. Including that I'm going out with one of my girls this afternoon. I'll call you later. Now get out of here before someone sees you.”

There is a moment of quiet between the two voices, then what sounds like a smack and a squeal from Cresta. She’s laughing now. “Go on, go on. Get the fuck out of here, Sheev. I’ll come by later. I’m not closing tonight.”

The man says something in a low voice that Shan can’t make out. But her boss laughs again and retorts. “Hold that thought til tonight.” Then there are retreating footsteps that are not Cresta’s.

A minute later, her boss sticks her head into the doorway. “Alright, I got rid of him. That man is a pest sometimes. Come on. Let’s do this, Shan.” 

She dutifully follows Cresta down the hall and around the corner to the backdoor and—

Shan freezes on the spot.

Darth Sidious is standing just inside the doorway. 

There is a moment of utter surprise on his part. Then his face evolves into a twisted smile of satisfaction. 

“Well, well, well. Look who we have here.” 

“Sidious,” Shan exhales his name in a near whisper. 

“You two know each other?” Cresta looks from one to the other. “Hey, she knows your—“

The Senator ignores her. He’s focused on Shan, looking her figure up and down as understanding dawns across his features. “I see now why he let you live. No doubt he couldn't resist the prospect of mingling midichlorians with you for his spawn.” A slow sneering smile creeps across his face. “Yes . . . you're his latest science experiment. That's all he saw in you from the beginning, an 18,000 midichlorian count. How he loves the eugenics of the Force. He himself was created to be Sith and now he replicates the process.” 

Shan’s heart is racing and her sense of danger is paralyzing for a moment. She had not felt Sidious’s presence, of course, for the Apprentice hides in the Force the same as she. She is caught now, and in the worst way possible. For she would much rather have been caught by her husband than by his Apprentice. If this man had been wary and jealous of her before, the sight of her belly pregnant with his possible replacement must surely make things far worse. 

So Sheev Palpatine is the Sheev who loves Cresta. What are the chances? Sheev is one of the more popular classic male given names for humans. Of all the Sheevs in the galaxy, Cresta’s Sheev has to be the alter ego of Darth Sidious. Shan feels like a fool for not even suspecting this connection. The long months of relative safety must have relaxed her vigilance. But really, she would never have put these two together. 

He’s enjoying the look of shock on her face. “I regret that I won’t get to tell him that his precious Jedi virgin wife now works in a whorehouse.” 

Cresta takes immediate offense. “Hey! This is a legitimate entertainment establishment, you uppity fucker.” 

“Red, did you know who this girl is?” Sidious shoots Cresta a hard look.

And Cresta in turn shoots her a hard look. “Shan, what the fuck haven’t you told me?”

“Go ahead, my lady,” Sidious sneers this formality. “Tell her who you’re married to. Tell her who you belong to.”

Shan says nothing. She’s far too afraid. And her mind is racing to find a way out of this situation as she observes the odd interaction between Darth Sidious and Cresta Cole. Shan doubts very seriously that she could outrun or outfight Sidious in her current clumsy condition. 

Cresta turns to Shan, still missing the full story of the undercurrents at play. She has her hands on her hips now and she’s glaring up at her. “Shan, I told you when I hired you that I didn't need any pissed off ex of yours showing up here with a blaster and a grudge. It’s bad for business.”

“Since you’re shy, Madame, I will tell her,” Sidious announces with glee. “Red, she’s married to Chairman Damask, the banker.” 

Then he pauses for maximum effect. 

But Cresta just shrugs off his big reveal. “If I’m supposed to be impressed, Sheev, I’m not. Who the fuck is that?”

“Hego Damask? The Muun financier?” Sidious frowns at Cresta’s continued blank look. “The head of the Banking Clan? The richest man in the galaxy?” It’s almost laughable for Shan to see how wounded Sidious is that his girlfriend is not immediately awed by his Master. That the Apprentice has a fragile ego doesn’t surprise her though. It fits with how threatened he is by Shan.

Cresta shrugs again. “Sounds too legit for me to know. I bank with the Hutts, Sheev. They don't ask questions if you pay their usury.”

Sidious looks exasperated now. And disappointed. “You're so Underworld, Red.” The remark is cutting in its patrician disdain.

But Cresta doesn’t care. “Yeah, I’m Underworld and proud of it.” She scowls at Sidious openly. “And don’t pretend you don’t like it.” 

“Cresta,” Sidious’ voice is very serious now. “Cresta, her husband Hego Damask is Darth Plagueis.”

And this is the information that succeeds in impressing Cresta Cole. 

“Fuck!” Her eyes widen. “You mean your—“

“Yes, my Master.” Sidious turns back to Shan. “To think that you were here under my nose all the time. Gestating his brat. You hide your Force signature well. As well as a Sith.” It’s begrudging praise. 

Shan’s boss is fitting all the pieces together now. “So you're married to the Muun banker? He never dumped you. And he’s this Damask guy?” She’s cocks her head at Shan and frowns. “What--did you have a fight or something?”

“You could say that,” Shan admits. Her voice is scarcely more than a whisper. Her mind is still searching for a way to get out of this situation. Keeping Sidious talking might help. 

“He wanted to kill her, Red,” Sidious explains as if he was relaying an amusing anecdote at a party and not attempted murder. “But he couldn't go through with it because she was pregnant.” 

“Nice of him,” Cresta observes dryly. 

“Oh, it wasn't because of her,” the Apprentice hastens to explain. “It was because of the kid. Darth Plagueis couldn't resist all the latent power born into his kid thanks to his fallen Jedi wife.”

Cresta nods. “Well, this has been educational but it’s time you were leaving, Sheev.” She moves to grab Shan's arm. And she sends her a quick covert look of solidarity and now Shan is really confused. 

Sidious reaches into his Senate robes and Shan instinctively knows that it’s for his lightsaber. And so Shan reaches into her handbag to clasp hers. Her thumb is ready to activate it at any sudden move.

“Hego Damask has got men searching the galaxy for his runaway wife. But now he'll never find you. Because I found you first.” The Sith’s eyes dart to his girlfriend who still holds Shan’s hand. “Get out of the way, Red. This has nothing to do with you. And it's best if you don't see this.” His lightsaber too is out in the open now, held down at his side poised to ignite.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Cresta objects, dropping Shan’s hand and taking a step forward to stand in between them. “Not in my club! Put that thing away, Sheev!” 

“She has betrayed the Sith, Cresta! Disloyal Sith wives die!” 

“Yeah, well isn't that for her husband to decide?” Cresta says this with a very hard tone. “Because that’s what you once told your Master, right?”

The point is lost on Shan but it hits home for Sidious. The man frowns, then recovers fast. “You're so right, Red. I will take her to him.” Shan can hear in the Force the duplicity behind these words. “How pleased he will be to reunite with her.”

“I'm not going anywhere with you!” Shan finds her voice at last. 

Sidious answers by igniting his saber. And Shan flinches at the sound. But then she acts, leaping forward to snatch Cresta and wrap her left arm like a vise around her neck. Shan jabs her unlit saber hilt into Cresta’s right side. “I'll kill her!” she warns. It’s a bluff, but she’s hoping Sidious can’t sense that.

The club boss is a small woman even for a human, and Shan easily outweighs her by double. Cresta’s body only comes up to Shan’s chest and she is held firm. 

“If you kill her, I'll kill you,” Sidious vows. His eyes are yellow now and the Force is fairly crackling with the tension between them. 

“Step aside,” Shan warns. “I’m going to die anyway. I have foreseen it. So I don’t have a lot to lose, Sidious.” Shan is thinking of her vision from yesterday with the faceless woman dying after childbirth. The woman who could be her. Who maybe will be her. Shan has no desire to hurt Cresta, but perhaps her friend is Shan’s ticket to safety. “Turn it off and step aside or she dies now.”

She and the Sith stare at one another for a long moment, each taking measure of the other’s resolve. 

“Do it, Sheev,” Cresta interrupts in a voice that is uncharacteristically quiet. And that alone seems to get through to Sidious. His eyes are on his Cresta now and he falters. Then deactivates his sword. 

“This isn’t over,” he growls at Shan as she muscles by with Cresta still held under her arm. He watches silently as Shan basically heaves Cresta with her into the waiting speeder in an awkward maneuver. Shan isn’t taking any chances—she’s keeping Cresta with her until Sidious is safely out of sight.

And then they are away. 

Two minutes later, the speeder is whizzing through Coruscant and Cresta pipes up pertly. “You can stop pretending you’re gonna kill me now, Shan. You couldn’t hurt a flea, and we both know it. I, on the other hand—“

“Oh, yes.” Shan reddens as abruptly she pulls back her saber that is digging into her boss’ ribcage. The other woman wiggles quickly away into the adjacent passenger seat. “Cresta, I’m sorry. It was all I could think to do.” It’s an inadequate apology given the circumstances, but it is sincere.

And her friend seems to realize this. “Fair enough,” her boss shrugs in that worldly, roll-with-the-punches way of hers that Shan has come to admire. She fixes Shan with a hard look. “But now you owe me an explanation, Shan. Spill it. I want the whole truth now. All of it.”

Shan nods. She starts talking as she flies the speeder. Her eyes dart back and forth between Cresta and the traffic around them. “I was a Jedi when I met and accidentally married Hego Damask. I didn’t know he was Sith. And, well, I didn’t want to be married. But the Jedi kicked me out when I tried to go back. And then my husband threatened to kill me. He only let me live because I was pregnant. So I fled from him and ended up here without papers, pregnant and with no credits. Most of what I told you was true, Cresta. Only I married the banker, I wasn’t his mistress. And he didn’t dump me, I left him.”

“And your husband really is the Sith Master Darth Plagueis?” 

“Yes. And Sheev Palpatine is his Apprentice.” They are slowing in the congested late afternoon traffic and Shan glances sideways over at her friend. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?” She wonders just what else Cresta knows about the Sith.

“Yeah, I knew that. I don’t know much about Sheev’s work, but I know his Master’s name. Sheev . . . uh . . . well, he isn’t a big fan of his Master.”

Yes, Shan thinks. Because Sidious is the merely satisfactory Apprentice and he knows it. Master and Apprentice truly do not like one another, even if they are allies. Shan was not wrong in observing this. 

She pulls over the speeder. It has been a short ride to where Shan is headed. 

“Here??” Cresta asks, wide-eyed. “Are you sure? Er . . . this might not be the best idea.”

Shan just turns to her friend and looks her in the eye. She coats her words with the Force to give them extra persuasion. For this woman has twice saved her, and Shan feels she owes her this warning. Especially after what just happened. 

“Cresta, get away from Sheev Palpatine. You should never trust a Sith. And you can do a lot better than him, even if he is a Senator.”

Cresta sighs heavily. “Shan, that's not news to me. I've known that asshole for years.” 

Again, Shan tries to convey her warning with conviction. Cresta Cole deserves better than the Apprentice, no matter what her station in life. “Sheev Palpatine is not a good man. You don't know what I know about the Sith.”

“Yes, Shan, I do.” Cresta looks away for a moment. “Actually, I might know more than you do.” Then she meets Shan’s eyes and raises her left hand palm facing out. Her small hand is scarred with a narrow slash, long healed and faded into a pale white line.

“Oh.” Shan stares at the scar, and then at Cresta. And involuntarily, Shan clenches her own left hand. “I didn’t know,” Shan manages weakly. “I never noticed.”

“Neither did I until yesterday when you handed me the earring. Listen, I wasn’t even sure it was a marriage scar when I saw it. And I didn’t know Sheev’s Master was a Muun banker who had a missing wife. There are more Sith, so you weren’t necessarily his Master’s wife. Sheev doesn’t like it, but there are more than two now.” And now it’s Cresta’s turn for an awkward apology. “When I saw your hand, I only knew that you were in deep trouble. And I knew that you needed to get away from me. I wanted to help you. Shan, I’m sorry. I didn’t know Sheev was coming by today.”

Shan nods. Her friend speaks the truth.

Then Cresta leans over to confide. “You’re trapped by that forever bullshit just like me. And there’s only one way out and it’s not very appealing.”

“At least your Sith loves you, Cresta,” Shan says softly, remembering the look on Darth Sidious’ face as he deactivated his saber. She decides that is the Apprentice’s one redeeming quality—that he loves her friend. “Mine doesn’t love me,” Shan confesses sadly.

Cresta just shakes her head. “Yeah, he loves me. But I don’t love him. I stopped loving him years ago.”

“Is that because he is Sith?” Had Cresta’s conscience come between her and the Apprentice, the way Shan’s had come between her and Snoke?

Apparently, not. “Shan, I’m no Jedi. I don’t give a fuck about who rules the galaxy as long as I get my piece of it. And I’m Underworld, so I’ve seen a lot of shady shit over the years and it doesn’t shock me. I don’t really care that he’s Sith. And, frankly, it has its uses now and then.”

“So why not?” Shan feels compelled to ask. She’s prying but Shan really needs to understand this for her own sake. “Why don’t you love him?”

Cresta gives a humorless laugh. “We married too young. He was rebelling against his Master. And at the time, I was looking to go legit. It was many years ago when we were kids and didn’t really understand where either of us was headed. He has his world now, and I have mine. And neither of us fits well into the other’s.” Cresta frowns and falls silent for a moment. “Yeah . . . Sheev and I have been on and off a lot over the years. Mostly off, to tell the truth. Nowadays, our lives are still pretty separate even though we’re getting along.” 

“So it’s true that you can’t ever leave a Sith?”

Cresta just rolls her eyes. “Yeah, it’s true. I gave up trying to be rid of him years ago. He won’t kill me and I can’t kill him, so we’re stuck with each other. How’s that for romance?” She slumps in her seat a bit under Shan’s gaze. “Yeah . . . there was a time when I really wanted to move on and I found another guy but, well, that didn’t . . . uh . . . work out. So, I’m stuck with Sheev even though we drive each other crazy and I’ll never be his acknowledged wife.”

The red head has that same melancholy tone to her voice that she gets just before their late night wine and gab sessions end. “First Sheev chose the Sith, then he chose me. It was all rebellion against his aristocrat parents and later against his Master. Sheev’s not the cocksure kid he once was, wanting to thumb his nose at the galaxy. Being Sith has made him careful and controlled. Honestly, I liked the younger Sheev better. He was more fun. Yeah . . . love grows old, Shan, and what people want out of life changes over time as they change.” 

It is perverse given Sidious wants her dead, but for some reason Shan wants things to work out for her boss and the Apprentice. Maybe because there would be something hopeful in it for Shan. So, she counters quietly, “But Cresta, people don't really change.” 

“My Sheev did.” 

They are quiet together for a moment before Cresta speaks up. “You need to go Shan, he'll be here any minute now.” 

“How do you know?”

“He makes me wear a tracker. Sheev has long been worried about the risks of my line of work. And he doesn’t trust his Master where I’m concerned.” Cresta exhales and then keeps going with her honestly. “Sheev is gonna kill you now, you know that, right?”

“Yes, I know.”

“Good. That leaves you two choices. Here,” Cresta inclines her head to the building behind them. “Or Darth Plagueis. Those are your only two options.”

“I know that.”

The red head glances behind them and turns back to Shan. “Are you sure you want to do this? Because you still seem awfully hung up on your banker. And if you do this, and there’s no going back to him.”

“He wouldn’t take me back, Cresta,” Shan says this quietly, with resignation. “I don’t really want to do this, but I don’t see another choice. I don’t want to die.” She says this as a tear spills down one cheek. Maybe it’s cowardly, but it’s the truth. Shan doesn’t want to be a martyr to the Dark Side of the Force.

“Okay, then. Well, good luck, Shan.” Her boss leans in to give her a quick hug.

“Thanks, Cresta. For everything.” Shan says through tears. She can’t believe she’s about to go do this. Again. But she’s feeling pretty desperate just now. “It will be okay in the end, right?”

Her friend looks less than convinced in this instance. But Cresta offers up the advice she has given in the past once again at Shan’s prompting. “Yeah. It will be okay in the end, Shan. It always works out.” 

Half encouraged and half resigned, Shan awkwardly climbs out of the speeder. With each passing day, her balance, gait and flexibility are more compromised by her pregnancy. It will only get worse, she knows. It’s far too late in the game to be on the run from Darth Sidious on her own. 

And so Shan turns to face the Coruscant Jedi Temple behind her and takes a deep breath. As she starts up the steps, she hears Cresta Cole call from behind her the ancient blessing, “May the Force be with you, Shan.”


	25. Chapter 25

_NOTE TO READERS: The end of this chapter resolves badly for Shan and her baby on the way. No one is physically hurt or killed, or anything awful like that, but it’s bad news all the same. Three more posts to go after this, I think_.

 

 

In a rare stroke of luck for the beleaguered Shan, she finds that the High Council is meeting today at the Coruscant temple. Right now.

 

She stands off to the side at a respectful distance peeking in, for the Council chamber has no doors and no guards. This is a symbolic gesture, meant to reinforce the transparency, collegiality and consensus nature of the Jedi leadership.   For though the Council’s meetings are confidential, there can be no arguments behind closed doors, no backroom deals cut and no secret dominance by a single Master or faction. The Light conducts its business in the open, for all to see.

 

Things done here mattered, Snoke had told her of the ritual chamber in the Sith temple. And now, as Shan stands outside the High Council chamber that is its Jedi counterpart, she thinks that things done here matter too.  Shan has only entered the chamber twice before. The first was the day she as a padawan learner was presented with her Master Jocasta Nu. The second was the day Shan finally was accepted for knighthood. She had passed the Jedi trials, just barely and after several failed attempts.

 

It is an intimidating space, she remembers. Here gather the twelve most respected Masters of their day for the debate of the most serious matters.   The High Council members are both the keepers of the Order’s traditions and the innovators of their time, for they decide what changes and what remains the same. Together these twelve wise beings constitute the conscience of the Light.

 

Shan has been raised to respect, revere and obey the High Council. For its role in the Order is second only to the Force itself.  If anyone can save her from the Sith, it is these twelve.   But she will never get on their formal agenda without Master Nu’s support. And her Master is probably correct that appealing to the High Council is a futile move. But Shan doesn’t have any better option right now. So she is going to have to take matters into her own hands.

 

With a deep breath and hopeful heart, Shan simply walks in.

 

Twelve heads swing her way immediately and the conversation ceases. Shan does not personally know any of the High Council members. She doesn't move in the upper echelons of the Order. And these Masters are all much older than she with the exception of the youngest member, her contemporary the rather self-important Mace Windu. Other than Windu, Shan only recognizes Master Yoda and the wookiee Master Tyvokka from her training days.

 

“Please excuse my interruption, Masters. But I wish to speak.”

 

Her voice sounds small and tentative to her own ears. Shan knows she needs to convey more confidence if she is to win these Masters’ hearts and minds. So she takes another deep breath. She can do this. She has to do this. For Darth Sidious probably lies in wait for her somewhere close by.

 

“Who are you?” Master Windu asks bluntly and Shan doesn’t take offense. She hasn’t seen him in years.   And well, Shan the Jedi is every bit as forgettable as Shan Damask is memorable.

 

Her voice is stronger now, with more conviction. “My name is Shan Merga,” she announces. “I am the missing Jedi researcher from the Naboo Temple. Thought to have been murdered. I am alive.”

 

Master Yoda stands directly before her in the circle of wise Masters. His features broaden into his trademark wide smile. This Master is a trickster at heart, and so he loves a surprise. “Yes,” he nods. “So we see. Happy are we to receive this news.”

 

“And that is not all we see.”

 

This voice comes from behind her, and Shan turns to see Master Dooku. Oh, gods, what is he doing here? When did he get on the High Council?  Shan swallows hard.  Yes, the reach of the Sith is indeed far, she realizes, if Snoke and Sidious have their own representative here.   But Dooku is only one of twelve. She comforts herself with that knowledge.

 

For surely Dooku recognizes her. Which means that he knows the public identity of her husband. And presumably, he knows that her husband is an ally of Sidious. But Shan is not certain whether that will help or hurt her.  Does Dooku know of Sidious’ antipathy to his Master? Does he even know that Hego Damask and Sheev Palpatine are Master and Apprentice?

 

Her turn towards Master Dooku affords all twelve Council members a chance to see what he comments upon. In her snug dress, there is no disguising her pregnancy. And, even if there were, surely these Masters would all sense the child in the Force, the same as Master Nu had. No, Shan will broach this topic head on now. She needs to maximize her credibility before these wisest of Jedi.   Because sanctuary with the Jedi is Shan's best chance now.   And she plans to fight for it.

 

“Masters, I was not murdered. I was abducted last spring on Naboo by a man who I trusted. He forced me into marriage. And now I am pregnant with his child. I have fled from this man and I wish to return to the Order. To reclaim my rightful place as a Jedi in the Light.” Shan pauses for this information to sink in. Then she adds, “I seek your compassion for my situation.”

 

This is all Shan plans to reveal. She will not talk of the Sith or warn of her visions. For if her own Master Nu would not believe her, then these Masters surely will not. Shan wants safety now. She’ll worry about the future later.

 

“Sorry are we for your ordeal,” Master Yoda intones and the room of Masters nods their agreement. “Shocking it is to learn of your plight.”

 

But then the questions begin.

 

A human Master she does not recognize asks, “Are you still married? Do you have a current attachment to the father of your child?”

 

“No.” Shan is prepared for this question, having heard it before from Master Nu. Shan has replayed her conversation with Master Nu again in her mind over and over, and she has learned from it. “I do not believe it to be a legal marriage, so there is no formal attachment. And there is no informal attachment either. I trusted a man who was not who I believed him to be. And he betrayed my trust. I have no allegiance to this man.”

 

“Are you sure about that?” Another unknown Master asks.

 

“Yes,” Shan tries to sound as certain as possible, even though she’s not at all certain in her heart. But hopefully, the Masters won’t see her hesitation.

 

“Who is this man?” Master Yoda asks. He’s watching Shan very closely. She can sense him taking measure of her. He has the same expression Snoke gets when he does the same thing.

 

“I do not wish to say,” Shan replies. And here lies the risk with her approach.

 

“Why not?” Yoda asks gently.

 

Shan reddens and then counters as politely as possible. “With respect, Master Yoda, why does it matter if there is no attachment?” She looks down now, hoping she looks as contrite and humble as possible as she outright refuses to answer. “This is a shameful matter for me, Masters. I wish to put this man and this matter behind me.”

 

Master Yoda nods his understanding, but still he presses her. “His identity matters because a crime against you this man has committed. And because a child there is. And that child has a father.”

 

“He is a businessman. A Muun.” Shan tries to be responsive without revealing anything meaningful.

 

But Master Dooku speaks up. “She is not telling us the whole truth.”  

 

Master Yoda nods sagely. “Correct Master Dooku is. More to this story there is. For strong is this child in the Force,” he observes. Then he closes his eyes to concentrate for a brief moment. “Yes. Very strong.”

 

From behind her, Dooku asks, “Is the father a Force-user?”

 

Shan hesitates, searching for the best way to answer truthfully. Lies will sing out to this assembly of Masters.  

 

“Well?” Master Windu prods.

 

“He is not a Jedi,” she answers, hoping no one recognizes this for the evasion that it is.  

 

“Then who is he? Why do you withhold his name from us?” Windu presses impatiently. “We have no desire to embarrass you. We only seek the truth. To understand and analyze the situation.”

 

It’s a reasonable request, but Shan can’t bring herself to reveal her husband. For she fears that the notable name Hego Damask will lead the High Council to reach the conclusion that Master Nu had predicted. It also might lead the Council to learn that Chairman Damask is a Force-user who is much more than he appears. And speaking of the Sith to this Council will only hurt her credibility. And endanger her further.

 

“There is animosity between you and this man?” This from another Master she does not know.

 

“Yes,” Shan confirms. “He kidnapped me and forced me into a sham marriage.”

 

“And yet you protect his identity.” Dooku practically purrs this observation. And then and there, Shan decides Dooku is foe and not friend.

 

Master Windu too is getting annoyed with her resistance. His words are kind but his expression is frustrated. “You must know that what you tell us here in the Council chamber will be held in the strictest confidence.”

 

“Yes, this is not the first time a Jedi has stood before this Council to confess of an impending child,” she hears a female Master’s voice from behind her. “Young Jedi, you are not the first nor will you be the last to break the Code with an attachment. You may speak frankly here.”

 

Master Yoda chimes in to agree. “Yes, tell us his name you should. Without fear.”

 

“I have no proof to offer against this man. And I do not seek his criminal prosecution.” Shan is stalling now. “Masters, I wish to put this matter behind me and to resume my work as a Jedi.”

 

Dooku speaks again. “I sense great fear in you, Jedi. You are afraid. But not of this Council.  Who do you fear?”

 

“Yes, yes,” Yoda speaks. “Agree with Dooku, I do. Fear she does. Fears the father of her child. Why?”

 

“Well?” It’s Mace Windu again and he’s frowning at her almost as if he’s taking her evasions as a sign of personal disrespect. The man was pompous even as a padawan, Shan recalls.

 

“You fear this man. You fear what he can do. What he plans to do.” Shan does not recognize this speaker. She can’t keep track of all the Masters firing questions and observations from all around her.

 

And then another unknown Master adds her voice to the chorus demanding an answer. “Who is this man? Tell us his name.”

 

“Is this a man of some importance perhaps? Is that why you protect him?” Dooku once again offers up a sly observation that serves to influence the others. When Shan fails to answer, Dooku throws his hands up. “You come to us attached and pregnant, alive after being presumed dead for months. Seeking our help but unwilling to reveal the full truth. These are not the actions of a Jedi who trusts in the Force and in this Council.”  She sees heads nods in sympathy to this summary of the situation, and Shan knows that she is losing her case.

 

Dooku warms to his theme, and suddenly he’s no longer talking about just her. “This Order has standards to uphold and a public reputation to maintain. We have wandered far from our core principles meddling in galactic politics and taking sides in trade disputes while our own internal affairs are neglected. For if our own Jedi do not respect this Council enough to answer its inquiries, how can we ask the Republic worlds to respect our authority in resolving their disputes? Clearly, the Order should spend less time tinkering in the Rim Worlds and more time educating our own members. For while this Jedi tells us that she is a victim and seeks our aid, she also flouts our authority.”

 

Now Shan speaks up as best she can. “Yes, I fear the father of my child. He has shown himself to be a dangerous man and I fear his reprisal. I require sanctuary from him for myself and my child.” Her words come out slow and wary.   Shan doesn’t know where to look as she speaks, so she holds the gaze of wise Master Yoda. And for the briefest of moments as she locks eyes with this oldest of Masters, she knows that he sees right through her. Like Snoke sometimes did. And, frantically, Shan buries all thoughts of her Sith husband but not before Master Yoda catches a peek. Horrified, Shan tears her eyes away from his.

 

“What about the child?” someone asks.

 

“We should keep the child. Watch over him and train him. Perhaps he will succeed where his mother has failed,” Dooku offers up. Again, she sees heads nodding in sympathy with his suggestions. Shan is coming to realize that Master Dooku is a respected and influential member of the Council. Which makes him all the more dangerous.

 

Yoda abruptly interjects. “Your left hand raise.”

 

Oh, no! Shan’s heart sinks. If she had planned this appearance before the Council she would have done her best to heal the scar. But there was no time for that. Dutifully, she complies with the request. But she makes a loose fist. It’s a stupid move because Yoda, of course, knows what he’s looking for.

 

“Your palm open.”

 

Again she complies. Her marriage scar is revealed for all to see, but apparently only Yoda recognizes what it is. Which makes sense since he is the only Council member old enough to have lived at the time the Sith were wiped out. Most of the Sith, that is.

 

Yoda stares at her with eyes wide and nearly bulging out. His focus is uncomfortable and she shifts beneath his unwavering gaze. Finally, she drops her eyes to the floor.

 

“Freely done was this?” Yoda asks quietly. The whole room is listening intently, confused about what’s going on but sensing it is of great importance.

 

Freely done? No . . . not really. “No.” Shan had consented to sleep with Snoke, not to marry him.

 

“Certain of that, are you?” Yoda pauses. “No, you are not. A great disappointment you are, Jedi. Now matters are worse. Much worse.”

 

Yoda stands to his feet now, resting heavily on his cane. Slowly, he makes his way to stand before Shan and reaches to accept her left hand. He traces the scar with his claw, almost as if he needs to feel it in order to believe it. The oldest of Masters has a sorrowful expression now. “Yes . . . fears the man, she does. And with good reason. For the mark of the Sith this Jedi bears.   Attached for life to a Sith she is.”

 

And those words provoke a mix of gasps and scoffs. And then a general uproar as many voices rush to speak at once.

 

“The Sith do not exist,” someone complains.

 

“Who is this Sith?” a voice demands.

 

“What’s on her hand?” another asks.

 

Other Masters now rise to look at her hand. Including Master Dooku. As he bends over to touch her palm, he meets her eyes and Shan now realizes that he had not known that Hego Damask was a Sith. Not until now.

 

“This looks to be a knife wound that has healed,” Dooku is disbelieving, and Shan knows it to be an intentional ploy to undermine the assertion that the Sith exist. For if Dooku is not already a Sith, Shan thinks, he will one day be one. “There is nothing special here, Master Yoda.”

 

“Tradition it was for the Sith to mark themselves and their spouse. Feel her wound and the Dark Side magic it reveals.   The knife that made the cut enchanted was.”

 

Dooku still looks unconvinced, but that might be an act.

 

“Is your spouse . . . a Sith?” Mace Windu’s brow is furrowed as if he thinks it ridiculous to even ask this question. “Is the father of your child a Sith?”

 

This is the direct question Shan has dreaded since Master Yoda asked her to raise her left hand. There is no avoiding it. And no lying about it. Shan takes a steadying breath and answers.

 

“Yes. He is Sith.”

 

And that provokes another round of general uproar.

 

Someone protests, “The Sith have been gone a thousand years.”

 

A voice objects, “If there are Sith, surely we would have sensed them.”

 

Someone explains, “The Dark Side has been defeated. We only need fear it in ourselves as Jedi. There is no threat from the Sith.”

 

“Who is this Sith?” Dooku demands. “As a Jedi, you must tell this Council of our ancient enemy.” Now Shan is lost in the undercurrents of duplicity surrounding this man and she doesn’t know what his motivations are. But on its face, his question is perfectly reasonable.

 

“I c-can’t tell y-you.” Shan is truly rattled now and losing her nerve. This discussion is spiraling out of control and has headed into territory that will only discredit her. And if she answers truthfully, it will condemn Snoke.

 

“Why not?” Mace Windu demands.

 

Shan turns to scan the faces in the room, her eyes finally coming back to rest on Windu since he is the questioner. She’s trembling now and the truth tumbles out. “Because you will kill him! And I may not agree with him, but I don’t want him dead!”

 

“Care for this man, do you?” Yoda’s words are slow and deliberate in the hushed room.

 

This, then, is the question that will seal her fate, Shan realizes. For Sith or no Sith, if she admits to an attachment, she is in current violation of the Jedi Code. And lying to the High Council is not an option.

 

“Well?” prods Mace Windu. “Do you care for this man? Is that why you are protecting his identity even though he might be our enemy?” Windu sounds unconvinced about the Sith, but he has framed the question in a way that makes Shan sound so disloyal.

 

Her heart sinks.   Shan is certain now that the Council will expel her.   But this was always a long shot, she reminds herself. And, really, her fate was sealed the moment Yoda said the word Sith.

 

So she opts for the whole truth. “Yes, I care for this man. A little. But I am trying very hard to get past that.” She bites her lip and adds, “Truly I am.” She wants the Masters to know her sincerity.

 

“How is it that you care for a man who kidnapped you?” Master Dooku asks the question that is on many minds judging by the murmurs of support.

 

Again, Shan tries to answer truthfully and completely. “We became friends before he kidnapped me. I knew him briefly beforehand. Or, I thought I knew him. But I did not know all that he was.” She glances down at her left palm with the scar.   She’s still so uncertain about what her feelings are for Snoke. She knows how she feels about his ideology, but she’s not certain if that’s how she feels about the man himself. “I did not know that he was Sith,” she wails unhappily. “And if he had told me, I would never have believed him anyway.”

 

“Would you have stayed with this man were he not Sith?” a voice asks.

 

And Shan hangs her head. Again, she opts for the unfortunate truth. “Yes, I would have. I would have stayed with him were he not Sith.”

 

A long moment of silence follows before Dooku speaks up.

 

“There are no Sith. This is all the fantasy of a troubled young woman. She runs away with a man and breaks our Code. Then she thinks better of it. So she returns with a self-inflicted wound and a ridiculous tale to justify her actions. She won’t give us the man’s name because she’s lying about him being a Sith. And she knows we will discover that when we confront him. And why would a Sith want a Jedi for a wife? This story makes no sense.   She seeks to play on our sympathies and to confuse our focus from the real issue—that she broke the Code.”

 

Master Yoda frowns at this dismissive speech. Shan can tell from his expression that he is greatly troubled. But even if Master Yoda believes her, that’s not helpful. The Council members either think like Dooku and she’s delusional or they think like Yoda and she’s been sleeping with the enemy. Either way, she’s not going to get the sanctuary she seeks.

 

“Always two, there are,” Yoda observes. Then he asks, “Another Sith do you know?”

 

“Yes,” Shan concedes, looking Yoda in the eye. “He has an apprentice.” This is another problematic disclosure. For while she has no love for Sidious, Shan sees no benefit in exposing him and not Snoke too. And revealing Sidious might ultimately lead the Jedi to Snoke anyway.

 

“And what is this Sith apprentice’s name?” Dooku asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

 

“I can’t tell you,” Shan answers miserably.

 

And now there is a third round of uproar in the chamber. Yoda pounds his stick on the floor to call the Council to order.

 

Then he turns back to Shan. “Leave us. Deliberate, we must.”

 

Two hours later, Shan stands again in the midst of the High Council awaiting their decision. They say a lot of lofty words in preamble. Then there is an explanation of why attachment is forbidden and a warning about why two Force-users are never allowed to procreate. Shan is surprised that they say nothing about the Sith. There must have been no consensus on this point. And that is not surprising given how improbable a modern day Sith sounds. She, too, had once scoffed at the notion that the Sith exist.

 

Shan hears that the Masters are compassionate for her situation, but skeptical of her candor. And that they are mindful of the need to uphold the Order’s standards and to enforce them consistently. It has been many years since the High Council has confronted a situation similar to hers, and even then the facts were different. But the Council will pronounce the same verdict as their forbearers.

 

None of that sounds promising, Shan thinks.

 

“Jedi, do you accept the authority of this High Council and of the Jedi Order?”

 

“I do,” Shan answers. She thinks she knows what is coming, and she has spent the last two hours preparing herself for it. Once, Shan would have thought expulsion from the Order to be the worst thing that could happen to her. But recent experience has put that into perspective.

 

“Jedi, will you respect the verdict of this Council as final?”

 

“I will,” she answers. Knowing full well that the verdict probably will mean accepting death at the hands of Darth Sidious a block or two away from this very temple. And that will be far more final than anything they will tell her now.

 

Yes, she fears Sidious far more than she fears the shameful judgement she expects from the Council. There is no death, there is the Force. Shan keeps telling herself this.  Appealing to the Council was always a long shot. Master Nu had warned her. But it was her best option in the moment. Yes, there is no death, there is the Force. She reaches for the peace and calm of the Light.   No matter what the Council does, Shan is a Jedi and when the time comes, she will die like one.

 

“Shan Merga, you are now and forever expelled from the Jedi Order. Your name shall be stricken from our Archives. You are not now, nor have you ever been, a Jedi Knight of the Republic.”

 

Shan swallows hard. Yes, there is no sanctuary to be had here from the Sith.  There is no death, there is the Force, she reminds herself again. And she blinks back tears.

 

“And you and your unborn child are to be severed from the Force.”

 

“WHAT?” Had she heard right? This can’t be possible! This is not a punishment she had even contemplated. Shan is sweating now, trembling even. The Council can’t do this! Can they do this? Can they really do this??

 

Of course, Master Dooku is the one to explain. His voice is grave and formal and unmistakably Sith to her ears alone. For his motivations must surely be to protect himself and to protect his co-conspirator Sidious. Anything Dooku can do to discredit and marginalize Shan is to their benefit.  

 

“This Council is not convinced that there is no continuing attachment,” Dooku announces. “And since this attachment by your own admission is purported to be to a Sith who is a Force-user, you cannot be permitted to use your Force for Darkness.   And you cannot be permitted to create with this man another child who will inherit the Force.”

 

“But there is no need for this if you will just let me hide here among the Light! There will be no risk of the Dark Side or of another child if I live here among the Jedi!”

 

“Shan Merga,” Master Dooku regards her coldly. “You are no longer welcome here among the Jedi since you have chosen to abandon our Code.”

 

“But why the child too?” Shan demands in a shaky voice. This seems so unfair. “Why take the Force from the child?”

 

Dooku’s voice is firm. “The son of a Sith must not wield the Force. We will never allow this child to be trained as a Jedi, and we will not risk him being training by these so-called Sith. If they exist.”

 

And Shan hears the subtext: the son of a Sith that might rival Dooku or Sidious must not wield the Force and grow to supplant them.

 

“But the child is innocent!” she cries.

 

“Yes,” Dooku nods his agreement. “And stripping the child of the Force will ensure that he remains so.”

 

There is some wisdom in this, for Shan can’t help but think of her vision of the boy barely grown and slaughtering Jedi. But it seems a harsh measure to rob the child of his ability make better choices.

 

“Deeply have you disappointed the Order,” Master Yoda tells her, his gnarled claw hands gripping and ungripping the wooden stick he uses as a cane. The golden eyes of the oldest Jedi narrow on her. “Wish that you learn from this, we do.”

 

Shan nods. But the only lesson she can derive from this whole situation is one Snoke had taught her—that people rarely recognize the truth when they hear it. For her Order had not believed her. Not enough to give her the sanctuary she craved that would have avoided the need to sever her Force. And so standing there shamed, Shan’s mutinous mind wonders if she has failed to recognize other truths Darth Plagueis has told her. That maybe she has been looking to the wrong people for truth.

 

For maybe, Shan thinks, Snoke has been right all along. And that by trying to leave him and to change her destiny, she has only bought tragedy down upon herself. Will Shan be one more example of a fool who raged against fate and paid a horrible price for it?  Will she march out of the temple pregnant, alone and severed of the Force? Completely defenseless against the Apprentice who wants to kill her?

 

It’s a terrifying thought. So again, Shan calms herself. There is no death, there is the Force.

 

Master Yoda beckons her forward and takes her hand. He whispers quietly so only she can hear. “Believe you, I do. Hope to protect you by this, I do. To save you from yourself. Now you cannot become an agent of evil.”

 

And then, her world shrinks forever.

 

And now for Shan there is no Force. But there is still death. And it’s outside waiting for her.


	26. Chapter 26

Shan is surprised and relieved when the Jedi do not turn her out promptly. Instead, they give her a private room in the women’s dormitory where she can cry her eyes out.

 

The next day they give her a one-way public transport ticket, the name and address of her Muun birth family, and some credits. Master Nu comes by to give her a standoffish but heartfelt pep talk about starting over in the secular world. She doesn’t say ‘I told you so.’ She doesn’t have to. Her Jedi Master just shakes her head sadly and leaves.

 

Then a pimply faced human padawan escorts her by speeder to the giant Coruscant spaceport. He’s quiet the whole way until the end when he hands her new copies of her old identification materials and travel documents.  Then, he can’t contain his lurid curiosity any longer. He’s clearly been working up to this question the whole time.

 

“So you’re the one they expelled, right?” the teen asks. “The librarian who lied to the Council about sleeping with a Sith after she got pregnant?” He’s staring pointedly at her belly.

 

Maybe she ought to be offended, but it’s so artlessly said and this boy is very young. So Shan just nods grimly. “Yes, I suppose I’m the one.”

 

“I knew it!” The boy pumps his fist. “My roommate owes me five credits now!” Clearly, this padawan is bizarrely impressed with her in the way only a teenaged boy could be. “I know they say that they say they strike your name from the records and all but—damn! Lady, you’re legendary!”

 

And that provokes the first genuine smile from Shan. Here she is, the forgettable Jedi who is now a legendary screw-up in the Order. All she can think is that Snoke would find this whole conversation to be hilarious. The Sith would be choking with laughter over this. And that makes her wistful. Shan could use some of his irreverence right now.

 

The padawan waits up until they begin boarding the transport. Then he nods at her and begins the traditional Jedi blessing, “May the Force . . . ” He stops himself, reddening as he realizes that the Force is no longer with her. And never will be. Clearly embarrassed at this gaffe, he mumbles good luck and flees.

 

And then, she is alone.

 

But still alive, at least. Shan keeps anticipating someone posing as security to come and hustle her off the transport into a backroom where Sidious awaits. But it doesn’t happen. Shan boards the transport like everyone else. And then it takes off.

 

It is two and a half days’ journey from Coruscant to Harnaidan with all of the stops out of hyperspace along the way. But Shan sleeps only an hour or two the whole time.   Her body might be exhausted, but her mind cannot find peace.

 

Losing the Force feels like she imagines becoming blind might feel. Or perhaps going deaf might feel. Like there is a world full of rich and layered sensation that she cannot experience but she knows is out there. And, oh, how keenly she remembers what it once felt like.   The random small happy things are gone now--the feeling of genuine warmth behind a friendly smile and the passing impressions of humor that underlie a stranger's laughter from across the room. And there will be no more advance warning of danger, no more easy assessment of truth, no more augmented reflexes, no more insight into another’s thoughts, and no more visions of the future.

 

She is a seer who is blind, a prophet without a tongue, a Jedi without the Force.

 

Shan had always been a lousy Jedi, one of those who had 'failed to reach potential,' so perhaps this shouldn't feel like such a loss. But it does. It feels a little like dying, Shan thinks. For certainly some large part of her consciousness is gone now. And not just from her, but from her child as well.

 

They had taken her saber, so all Shan has left is a rather beat up designer handbag stuffed with the silver dress she can no longer fit into, her crystal wedding ring and a pair of diamond earrings so large that everyone who sees them just assumes that they are worthless fakes.  

 

Naturally, many of the passengers onboard her transport are Muuns traveling to their homeworld Muunilinst. Muun culture is very traditional, especially with regard to marriage and family. So after Shan intercepts a few curious glances and several downright disapproving ones, she digs out her wedding ring and crams it on her swollen finger. Shan has had enough judgement for a lifetime. After being so harshly sanctioned by the Order that reared her, Shan finds she cannot bear the looks of shame from strangers who think her to be an unwed mother.

 

She stares for hours at the wedding ring because she has nothing else to do. The kyber crystal is like any other stone now.   For try as she might, Shan can no longer feel its resonance in the Force.

 

And then she stares even longer at the Harnaidan suburban address for her birth parents. She wonders what these people will be like. Will they still live at this address? How will they receive the adult daughter they gave up decades ago who arrives pregnant on their doorstep in disgrace? More shame awaits her at this unwanted homecoming, and that is a discouraging thought for Shan’s already wounded heart.

 

Sidious had said that her husband had men searching the galaxy for her. And Snoke and Sidious had known her birth parents’ identities. No doubt their home is being watched. Has Sidious contacted his Master to reveal that he had seen Shan on Coruscant? That he had tried to catch her to ostensibly return her to his Master? Maybe. And if he has, the men searching for her now have a good description of what Shan looks like currently and what she’s wearing.  

 

She has no weapon now, no way to defend herself. And at six months’ pregnant, she’s not fast enough to outrun anyone. Her only good alternative seems to be to hide. And that might be a possibility given she now has a few credits and the paperwork she needs to get a legitimate job. But will anyone hire a woman this far into pregnancy? Shan is skeptical. And if they won’t, then how will she survive? She can’t mind-trick her way to food and other basic necessities.  She’ll have to beg or steal.  And in a moment of bizarre desperation, Shan wonders if crime might be a good strategy. Because if she gets caught and put in jail, then at least she’ll have a roof over her head and they will feed her.

 

How low she has sunk. And she cannot blame it all on the Muun Sith who put events into motion. Plenty of the blame belongs to Shan for her own risky decisions. And blame lies too with the Jedi who disowned her and callously turned her out with very few options.

 

The baby starts kicking hard as the transport nears her destination. It’s probably because she hasn’t eaten in over a day. Shan can kind of see the kicks now as they stretch at her taut belly. It’s just one more small indicator that this child is real and will be coming soon. Shan first robbed this child of its father and all the security and privileges the Sith prince could provide. And now, however inadvertently, Shan has robbed him of the Force.  

 

So when she arrives on Muunilinst, Shan is feeling equal parts desperate and guilty. She takes a long look at the suburban address of her parents. Then she pays a local transport cab an exorbitant sum to drop her in the central city.

 

As the speeder cab descends at its destination, security rushes out with guns drawn to shoo it away. This is a private landing pad and not for public access, they shout. Visitors to Damask Holdings are received below at ground level security. But thanks to all the extra credits Shan splurged on, the cab lands anyway.  

 

Shan doesn’t recognize any of the security team. And they don’t recognize the bedraggled looking pregnant woman who has arrived unannounced at Hego’ Damask’s rooftop penthouse landing pad.  Of course, she thinks. Because Shan Damask is supposedly an invalid somewhere. And because these men probably would be expecting Hego Damask’s wife to look like her holonet pictures—a woman with perfect makeup and impeccable clothes who has a small waistline and a friendly smile. Not the hot mess that just pulled up in a cab.

 

“Lady, you need to leave,” the lead guard informs her gruffly, his hand resting on his holstered blaster. “This is a private residence.”

 

“No,” Shan refuses quietly without further explanation. Then she turns to wave away the lingering cab. “Please call San Hill. I wish to speak to San Hill.”

 

At the mention of the big boss for IGBC security, the guard in charge wavers only a minute before agreeing. Whoever this strange woman is, she knows someone important. But he keeps Shan standing on the landing platform surrounded by six men for half an hour while someone goes off in search of Hill. All six men have their guns drawn. They ask her a lot of questions, even brandishing their blasters as incentive to answer, but Shan refuses to talk to anyone but her friend.

 

When he arrives, San Hill looks annoyed. Shan is surrounded and barely visible behind all the security thugs. “What is it?” he complains. “This had better be good or—“ His voice trails off as the guards part to reveal Shan in their midst.

 

“Shan!” he breathes aloud. His mouth hangs open a moment as he takes in her rumpled, exhausted appearance and her obvious advanced pregnancy. “Wow, Shan,” he repeats breathlessly, his eyes wide. Hill looks like he wants to say more to her, but then he reconsiders. Perhaps because there are so many curious onlookers.

 

And those onlookers are suddenly comprehending who she is now that San Hill has said her name. The guards look at one another and then back at her. Suddenly, they are a lot less sure of themselves.

 

Hill turns to the lead guard at his side. “Contact the Chairman. Have him called out from his meeting. Immediately.” Then he turns to the assembled thugs. “Put your weapons away!” he barks, glaring hard at the one who still has a blaster held to her temple.

 

“Thanks, San,” she tells him wearily. “I didn’t recognize any of them.”

 

“That’s because the men from your old security detail are all dead, my lady,” he informs her. “The Chairman made an example out of them after what happened on Coruscant.”

 

And that’s just one more thing for Shan to feel guilty about. She meets Hill’s cold eyes and sadly nods her responsibility. Then she trudges forward to the apartment entrance because Shan physically can’t stand up any longer. She leans heavily against the door. Too weak, pregnant and heartbroken to venture further and certain anyway that the door is locked with the Force she no longer feels. She lasts only a minute more on her feet before slowly she slides down to the ground.

 

No one moves to help. San Hill walks to stand with her in silent solidarity, but he keeps his distance all the same. On his order, security forms a wide perimeter around Shan. She is hardly a threat in her current condition, but no one is taking any chances since an entire security detail once had been killed for letting her escape.

 

In the ten minutes it takes to locate Snoke, Shan slumps and falls asleep. She is huddled on the doorstep like some vagrant where she before had stepped lively over this threshold in a swish of Coruscant couture.  Milo appears to feel her forehead and shake her shoulder to rouse her. The old manservant is conferring with San Hill about summoning a doctor when Snoke strides up and everyone steps back.

 

“Shan.”

 

She hears the Sith’s deep voice say her name and she opens her eyes. Perhaps she should be terrified in this moment, but Shan can no longer muster the energy for strong emotion.  All she feels now is numb.

 

“Shan, look at me.”

 

She lifts her head to focus on his face.   His eyes—what color are his eyes—it’s all she thinks.

 

They are dark brown. And his face is full of concern.

 

“So . . . you have decided to come back.” Snoke doesn’t look happy to see her. That’s not a surprise, but somehow it’s still disappointing. The Sith’s brow is furrowed and he just looks . . . concerned. “You can stop hiding now, Shan.”

 

She’s not hiding, but he doesn’t know it. He can’t tell. Of course, not. Because he thinks she’s hiding in the Force still.

 

Shan doesn’t trust herself to form words. So she just blinks at him with barely focused eyes as she struggles to sit up. Her lower lip is trembling. So she bites it.

 

They eye one another in silence a long moment.

 

Finally, he steps forward. “Welcome home,” he tells her gravely as he reaches down with both hands to haul her to her feet.   “You have returned to me, and for that I am grateful.”

 

Once upright, she sways and leans heavily against the door, staring up at him. He’s every bit as handsome as she remembers. Whereas Shan herself is a wreck. Snoke is frowning now and she knows it’s because he sees what bad shape she is in. The worst part, she knows, is what the Sith cannot see.

 

“You might not w-w-want us,” she struggles to get the words out because emotion has come flooding back. Now it threatens to overwhelm her. “For w-we are dead to the Force now, b-both of us. They threw me out and they t-t-took our Force. From the baby too.” Shan is undone by this confession. She starts to sob quietly and to slide back down to the ground.

 

Now there will be no Sith son to teach as his legacy and to inherit his library, and no Jedi wife full of the Light he so craves. Shan has nothing left to offer this Sith other than herself. Or, whatever is left of herself. Shan isn’t quite sure what that includes.

 

Snoke watches in horror and repeats her words in a raspy whisper. “Took your Force?” He is breathing heavily now, his chest visibly rising and falling. Shan knows that if she still could sense him she would feel his anger building with each passing moment. “Took your Force??” His eyes are flashing yellow now. “Who dares to take your Force?” He rages at her, demanding an answer. “WHO DARES THIS??”

 

“The High Council,” she chokes out from at his feet. “It was my punishment for refusing to reveal the identity of my Sith husband. Master Yoda said it would save me from myself. S-save me from Darkness.”

 

“No . . .” he mutters. He is seething now. His burgeoning wrath evident from the set of his jaw and the glint of his feral yellow eyes. “No . . . “ His hands rise out to the side and they tremble.   Even without the Force, Shan knows what’s coming next. She hears the crackle and instinctively cowers as the blue Force lightning streaks from his fingertips to dissipate into the air. “NO!” The depth of the Sith Master’s fury manifests itself in this, the most potent expression of the Dark Side. His intense emotion is focused and channeled into lethal power.

 

But she is not his victim. His rage is vented to dissipate into the sky.

 

From their guarded and neutral expressions, Shan can tell that San Hill and Milo have seen this display of power before. And Shan now thinks she knows how her security team members died after her escape on Coruscant.

 

His outrage spent, Snoke lowers his arms. “Oh, Shan,” he falters at a loss for words. Instead of the anger she is anticipating, he’s looking down at her with the deepest pity. She sees that the Sith instantly understands the enormity of this loss. For her and for their child.

 

And seeing that unexpected compassion is her undoing. Shan falls apart. “I c-c-couldn’t stop them,” she is sobbing hysterically now as once again he hauls her to her feet and this time into his arms. “I’m s-so sorry. I couldn’t s-stop them.” She buries her face into his chest, her voice choked as she pleads, “Help me, Darth Plagueis, you’re my only h-hope.” She sags into him awkwardly, her big belly a barrier between them. “Please give us back our Force.” She is reduced to begging the Dark to restore her Light.

 

“Oh, Shan,” he whispers as he pulls her close. “I will try . . . I may be able to help.”

 

“I’m so s-sorry,” she gulps. “For all of it. I n-never should have doubted you. I never should have r-run from you.” This she means completely. For today, even in the worst of circumstances and even after her betrayals, her Sith will stand by her when the Jedi had not. Yes, he plots a war to rule the Republic and to destroy the Jedi. But none of that seems to matter much now. A week of parties on Coruscant had revealed the depths of corruption and greed that underlie the Senate. And now her beloved Jedi are not the infallible, understanding good guys she once believed them to be.  

 

The only thing that seems to matter now is him.

 

The Light that promised forgiveness has brought only judgement and pain, but the Darkness beckons her home still.  Hauls her to her feet, holds her up, wraps her in the safety of its power, and agrees to try to help. For so long Shan has been convinced of the superiority of the Light, but the welcoming mercy of her Sith has her questioning this. And now, she will gladly accept whatever he offers. For though she has failed him, he has not failed her.

 

“You have returned to me, and that is all that matters,” he tells her, his thumb wiping at her tears. And in that moment, months too late, Shan becomes forever steadfastly loyal to her Sith.

 

“Forgive me,” she whispers, as she staggers as much from the weight of her regrets as from the weight of her depleted body. In anger Snoke had once told her that he had not wanted to treat her like an apprentice. That he had not wanted to break her down and remake her. But circumstances have done that nonetheless.  

 

Shan feels her feet leave the ground and she is lying back now, effortlessly carried in his arms. First they are inside of the apartment and then into the bedroom where he places Shan gently on the bed.

 

Snoke sits on the bed next to her. He has his left hand clasped with hers. Scar matches scar, the vivid proof that they are joined together forever. For Force or no Force, he is her Sith and she is his lady. In good times and in bad times, for better and for worse.

 

In her hazy state, Shan is only vaguely aware of his fervent whispered words. “We will hunt them down and kill them for you,” he vows. “Each and every Jedi will die for this.   Their Order will fall, their temples will burn, and their holochron knowledge will be ours. Long have the Jedi and the Sith been historic enemies, but this is personal now. For no one harms what is mine without paying the price.”

 

He leans in now to kiss her brow. Then he rises to his feet and stands over her to issue his pledge.  “I, Darth Plagueis the Wise, promise you Sith justice. I shall live to see the last Jedi fall. And then I shall rule the galaxy with you as my wife at my side.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue and Story notes to come in a few days time


	27. Chapter 27--Epilogue

Epilogue to _The Fifth Wife_

 

This is the epilogue to my completed Snoke/Darth Plagueis backstory fic _The Fifth Wife_. I am also cross posting it to _Fulcrum_ , since it is written as a conversation between Snoke and Rey speaking of the past. There’s something here for both stories, so I thought it might be a fun quick read.  

 

For readers of _The Fifth Wife_ :

 

This epilogue tells a bit about what happens after our lovers reunite. It is not necessary to read this epilogue if you want to end your experience at the last chapter.

The epilogue is told through a conversation between Snoke and Rey five years after _The Force Awakens_ and a few months after my _Fulcrum_ fic ends.   This seemed to be the logical way to tell what happens without showing what happens. In the epilogue, Rey is now the Empress of the Second Empire married to Kylo Ren and pregnant with his twin boys. Hopefully, this epilogue won’t feel too jarring from the shift in time and characters.

I have thought long and hard about how to end _The Fifth Wife_ , and the lovers’ reunion seems to me to be the most satisfying conclusion. But Snoke and Shan have years to go and, well, Shan is not around by the time we meet Snoke again in the sequel trilogy.   If you want to know more about Snoke’s thoughts on life with Shan, read _Fulcrum_ Chapters 7, 28, and 35.

 

For readers of _Fulcrum_ :

 

Why am I posting this and mixing stories? Is this merely click-bait for my other fic? No, and if you are worried about that, please don’t read any farther.

I’m posting this because the concept that the past directly impacts the present (and the future) is a persistent theme throughout _Fulcrum_. The weight of the Skywalker family history and the political history of the galactic civil war rest heavily on the shoulders of Kylo Ren. And Rey struggles with this too, for she even more than Kylo wants to move away from the past even as it keeps dragging her down into conflicts. Rey has the past staring down at her with Sith wife Padme’s portrait in her bedroom and literally even tries to bury the past conflicts when she ends up at Padme’s tomb. _The Fifth Wife_ is Snoke’s past but, as it turns out, it is the Skywalker past as well. I thought readers might find that interesting.

Also, there is a lot of Sith/Force lore in _The Fifth Wife_ that directly connects with _Fulcrum_.   Themes about destiny and about the relationship between the Dark and the Light that are relevant here. But this is wholly optional for _Fulcrum_ readers. That story stands on its own.   This is just another peek into the world of Rey after _Fulcrum_ ends.

 

**Note that there are spoilers here for both stories.**

 

_40-ish years ABY, at the fortress hideaway of Supreme Leader Snoke_

 

“I didn't know you could do such a thing,” Rey whispers in horror. “To strip someone of the Force.” She looks down at her hands as she says this. They are pulsing now with the restorative magic of the Light. Rey’s small hands are not to be judged by their size, for they are capable and powerful. And they are resting on the shoulders of the most powerful man who has ever lived. He is the eternal Muun, the architect of two empires and a Sith for all ages.   Darth Plagueis the Wise.

 

Rey shifts back to the chair at the side of Supreme Leader Snoke’s throne. She is so far gone in pregnancy now that she must change positions every so often. For no matter how comfortable it might feel to get off her feet, before long even sitting begins to hurt.

 

“It was a draconian punishment. Seldom used in modern times.” The Sith Master intones his words in that low, slow growl of his. This man is never in a rush, it seems. For unlike everyone else, Darth Plagueis has all the time in the world.  

 

“I tried in vain for many years to restore their Force. If a Sith had Force-severed them, I might have reversed it. But the Jedi had blinded them both behind a wall of Light, and I could not penetrate it. And none of the Jedi I captured could do so either.”

 

Captured? More like captured and tortured, Rey thinks. She can only imagine the Dark persuasive powers of this Sith. Leader Snoke is not a man who takes no for an answer. How it must have frustrated him to be unable to help his family.

 

Rey leans forward now to inspect the skin on his face. The movement brushes her heavy belly against Snoke’s arm resting on his throne. When a year ago Rey first had been summoned by Kylo’s Master for Force healing, she might have blushed and stammered an apology at this small intimacy. But she has grown accustomed to the personal touch required for healing him. It helps that Snoke never loses his formal, courtly demeanor through it all. The Sith does not consider it awkward for her body to touch his, and so Rey now treats it the same way.

 

He turns into her at the sensation and reaches up with his giant Muun hand to spread spindly fingers across her swollen belly. “Sssstrong. So ssstrong,” he relishes his words as he strokes the fabric of her dress. “Your twin Sith grow strong, my lady.” Rey smiles back her acknowledgement and he confides, “One day these boys will be as much mine as they are yours.”

 

Yes, she knows. Life with Kylo Ren has taught Rey what it means to be a Skywalker prince. To owe allegiance first and foremost to this Muun, then to power and then to all else. Her sons will be no different, and she has come to accept this.  

 

Rey returns to her inspection. Yes, his right cheek definitely looks better. But the left side—the ruined side of Snoke’s visage—still has a long way to go.

 

The Sith sits back and returns to his tale. He likes to talk while she heals. Most of the time, he speaks of the Force. For like Kylo, this Sith loves to speak of the Force. But more often of late, the old Muun speaks of himself. Slowly, little by little, revealing the mystery behind the man the galaxy only knows as the reclusive Supreme Leader.

 

“Shan still had all of her power but she could not access it. In time, the Force began to bleed back through to her somewhat. She began having visions again. And then I could feel her Light again too. But never again could my wife control the Force upon command.”

 

“She let me study her. And in doing so, I learned a great deal about the nature of the Force and about what it means to have an Awakening, like you experienced.” The Muun’s dark eyes slant over to Rey for a moment. She knows he loves to talk about the details of her Awakening. For every minute aspect of the Force interests him. “But all my knowledge of the Force and all my ability to prolong and to restore life has only ever accrued to my own benefit. Never was I able to restore or save the ones I loved most.”

 

She catches the plaintive cast that flashes across the Supreme Leader’s features. “You never got to rule the galaxy with her,” Rey says the words before she can stop herself and instantly regrets them. She has no wish to rub salt in this man’s wounds. And Rey herself knows what it means to feel loss.

 

He must feel the streak of her compassion in the Force, for he crooks a half smile at her. The old Muun rarely smiles and when he does it is a grotesque distortion of his ruined face. But oddly enough, it has the same effect as if he were young and handsome. This Sith was once a charismatic man, Rey thinks.   And the vestiges of it still remain.

 

As she has spent more time with Kylo’s fearsome Master, Rey has discovered that he is surprisingly likable. And, on occasion, even vulnerable.

 

“We did have good years together. Our lives became very intertwined with her work in my library and my work in the Force. I shared more with her than with any of the others before.” Snoke busies himself straightening his sleeve and for the briefest of moments she thinks he is uncomfortable. But when he looks up, he is the same inscrutable Sith as ever. “Never have I cared for a woman as much as my Shan. She was an exemplary wife to the end.” His expression softens and Rey can tell he is remembering long ago. “Yes. We Sith are hard on our women.”

 

And Rey can’t help but silently agree. For she knows that loving and being loved by a Sith has its costs.

 

“What happened to the child?” Rey is almost afraid to ask this question, but she has babies on the mind these days and it seems a fair question. She thinks of how much Kylo wants his Skywalker Sith dynasty and she wonders whether a younger Snoke had once felt the same way.

Snoke gives the answer she fears. “Sidious killed him.” The Muun speaks of it very matter of fact, but perhaps it was so long ago that the hurt is gone. “The boy would never have posed a threat to him, but Sidious killed him anyway out of spite. Sheev Palpatine was like that. But in the end, my son delivered my revenge.”

 

Rey doesn’t follow. “I don't understand.   I thought your son was dead?”

 

And this question makes Snoke flash another half smile. “I had another son. Created in the Force quite by accident and born to a slave woman.   It was years before I knew about him, and the Jedi found him first.” Snoke is watching her closely now. He’s enjoying revealing more of his past.  

 

“Ultimately my son did fulfill my wife's visions. He slaughtered the Jedi in the temple and then went on to hunt down the remaining Jedi over the years. He beheaded Dooku as well. And in the end, my son threw Sidious down a reactor shaft.   All who had wronged my family were made to pay in the end: the Jedi, Tyranus and Sidious all fell to my son’s sword.” Snoke’s satisfaction for this decades old vengeance flashes out to Rey in the Force.   It’s a bubble of Dark power. Pride and wrath combining.

 

Yet again, Rey does not follow. “But I thought Vader killed Sidious?” That’s what Kylo had told her.

 

“Vader did kill my Apprentice.” Snoke’s eyes dart to hers and for a moment the old Muun looks like a wicked boy caught in a prank. “Anakin Skywalker was my progeny in the Force. He was the Sith son I created but did not sire.”

 

“But that means—“ Rey stops as understanding dawns.

 

“Yesss,” the eternal Sith purrs out this word as he sees Rey connect the dots in her mind. “Kylo Ren is my great grandson in the Force.”

 

“And then Luke Skywalker was your grandson.” Rey’s eyes are wide now as she completes the thought. The Sith Master had trained his great-grandson to kill his grandson. How very Skywalker of him, Rey thinks to herself with a frown.

 

“Indeed.” Snoke never bothers to hide that he reads her thoughts. And Rey has never learned to shield them. “The Skywalkers have always killed their own.” The Muun looks at Rey long and hard. “My dear, I am no exception.”

 

Rey nods. She is under no illusions about this Sith. Or any other Sith. She knows what they are capable of. Or at least she thinks she knows.

 

And now Kylo’s Master is issuing her a stern warning. “Lady Rey, never let your command of the Force fool you to believe that you have complete control. Destiny is real. It is a dangerous thing to attempt to avoid fate. My wife paid dearly for it. Years later, Ren's grandfather made the same mistake.”

 

Wait—what? “What mistake did Vader make?” For all Kylo has spoken to Rey of his grandfather, never once has he been critical.

 

“Vader too tried to subvert the will of the Force. It is a fool’s errand. Vader wanted to save his wife from death in childbirth. But in the end, he lost her and more.   For he lost his children to the Jedi.”

 

“Which led to thirty years of war,” Rey says aloud. She is unhappily familiar with the fallout that came from the Jedi stealing Vader’s newborn children so many years ago. The patricide, the matricide and the suffering.   The endless war, the Death Stars and the Starkiller.

 

“Indeed,” Snoke agrees. And he is not done with his musings for today it seems. For he continues, “The Force is not fair, Rey. Do not expect it to be so.   At best, it gives rough justice. And then, only in the aggregate. Rarely for an individual.   The Force seeks balance, but it does not promise equality.”

 

Shan nods at his wisdom. The Sith Master is back to speaking of the Force. And ultimately, whatever he speaks about, it always comes back to the Force. At first Rey had wondered if the old Muun missed having an apprentice to teach.   And she worried that he might seek to lure her into Darkness. But she has come to understand that Snoke likes having someone to talk to about the Force. And sometimes, she wonders if he just likes having someone to talk to about anything.

 

“I will never endanger your Light,” he promises softly. Yes, he’s in her mind again. And it is so effortless and so subtle, and Snoke’s presence so familiar now, that Rey doesn’t even notice any longer. And, to be honest, she doesn’t mind. She has learned to accept things she cannot change.

 

“I need your Light.” The old Sith holds her gaze for a long moment. “I want your Light,” he breathes out these words quietly.

 

Yes, Rey knows that all Sith secretly crave the Light. Darth Plagueis is no exception. Her healing helps to slowly knit back together his decrepit, broken body. And it helps to balm the terrible void that is this man’s lost soul. For Darkness is all-consuming and over time it takes its toll.

 

From her very first visit, it was evident that the old Muun had been too long bereft of the Light. Rey couldn’t help but see his involuntary shiver when first she laid her hands upon him. Rey still feels his excitement at watching her draw upon the Light. For healing is first and foremost hope, and hope is in short supply on the Dark Side.

 

Snoke is in her head again and nodding his agreement with her assessment. “My dear, the darker the Sith, the stronger his call to the Light. When Kylo Ren first came to me with news of you I knew it for a sign of his maturity as a Sith. That I could expect great things from my Apprentice. For only a Sith grown very dark would crave the Light enough to . . . “   Snoke’s voice trails off and he does not finish the thought.

 

Rey stands now to walk around to his left side to take a close look. She is not squeamish. You can’t grow up on Jakku and be squeamish. And after looking upon a horribly burned TIE pilot on the _Finalizer_ , Rey feels she can look upon any suffering calmly.

 

Even this suffering. Snoke has told her that some of his wounds came from a lightsaber and that some had come from a decapitator disc. For many long years, Snoke confided, he wore a respirator. But with sufficient Dark power, he managed to overcome that physical weakness. But while Darkness can strengthen, it does not heal. Only the Light can heal. And so decades later the eternal Muun has a barely closed hole in what remains of his left jaw. Paper thin grey skin covers the remainder of his sunken cheek. And he is still missing half of his left ear.

 

He cocks his head in her direction and Rey knows this for her cue. She reaches out to cradle his ruined face lovingly in her hands as she might a child. Then she closes her eyes to summon the Force with her most focused concentration.

 

Darth Plagueis too closes his eyes to submit to her Light.

 

“Tell me more about your wife,” she says. And Snoke needs no further prompting for he is in a mood to talk today.

 

“We are all a product of our times. Experience always leaves its mark. And the late Republic was a different era than now. There was still much prosperity even if it was concentrated in the hands of a few. And there was still idealism and faith in institutions and leaders. In the end all of that proved to be misplaced, but it was there all the same. The galaxy at large was more innocent, more trusting back then. And few were more innocent and trusting than my Shan.”  

 

Rey listens silently to his remembrances, observing how his jaw moves as he speaks. Whoever struck this blow surely had thought it to be mortal. She wonders whether the injury is why he speaks so slowly, or whether the Muun has always had this deliberate cadence that has you hanging on every word.

 

“My Shan had none of your grit, Empress. She would never have survived Jakku or Kylo Ren. She was a fragile thing.   Book smart, not street smart. Trusting and naive. Easily bullied and shy of conflict.   All the things that you are not.” Rey’s eyes are closed again, but she can hear the smile in his words. “I would never have been able to trap you into marriage in my temple.”

 

This covert praise makes Rey smile in response.

 

“Shan was a convent bred Jedi girl, sheltered from the pleasures and the pressures of the outside world.   Told what to think and what to do for all the days of her life until she met me.”

 

“She disarmed me so.  She was all Light, with no Darkness mixed in. My opposite in so many ways. And that is how she came to love me. She saw the best in me for that is the nature of the Light. To hope and to believe and to support.” He slants another approving glance at Rey. “That is why every Sith needs a Jedi wife. Because then their woman can be an equal without being a rival.”

 

“Did she ever teach at a university?” Rey wants to know.

 

“She did. The loss of the Force served to encourage my Shan to pursue other things. Ultimately, she took a professor post on Coruscant.   And she worked long hours to preserve the chronicles of the Sith. Much of what survives of my library is her work, and for that generations of Sith shall be grateful to Lady Plagueis.”

 

He opens his eyes again to regard her steadily. “Yes . . . there is always growth in adversity. Although few people know that as well as you do, my lady.”

 

Again, rare praise from the eternal Sith. Rey feels her cheeks bloom slightly. “Did all of your wife’s visions come true?” she asks.

 

“Indeed. As the decades unfolded I saw occur what she had seen. The clarity of her foresight was impressive. The very first vision I knew her to have was of your husband making his Sith lightsaber. So many decades later when the runaway Skywalker padawan showed up at my doorstep, I recognized him immediately.”

 

“The boy needed a sword.   So I gave him the kyber crystal from my wife's wedding ring to build it.  It was cracked by then.  Sidious had hacked my dear wife brutally when he killed her, and the crystal had been damaged. But I thought it fitting to give it to Ren.”

 

Rey thinks of Kylo’s ragged, unstable blade. She wonders whether he knows the story behind the cracked crystal. The jewel struck from the hand of a doomed Sith wife that would power a sword used to win back an empire.

 

“Why did you not make her immortal like yourself?” Rey wants to know.

 

And the question provokes a long sigh of true regret from the Sith. “She kept delaying me. My Shan always wanted another child and I could not guarantee to her that it would not harm her fertility.”

 

Rey understands. She might have made the same choice herself in that circumstance.

 

“Would she have liked me?” Rey asks on impulse. And then she blushes at the insecurity the question betrays. Vader’s queen probably would have turned her nose up at the new Empire’s scavenger Empress, Rey thinks. But what about Shan Damask?

 

The Muun ponders for a moment before he answers. “You would have intimidated her in some respects. And she might have done the same for you. But yes, she would have liked you. Shan liked everyone.” Snoke pauses to amend that statement. “Everyone except Sidious.”

 

“Sidious hated my wife from the start because she was Jedi.  He never accepted the truth that Dark and Light will always co-exist.  Not on equal terms, of course, but co-exist nonetheless.   Sidious wanted to eradicate the Light and he and Vader tried mightily. But the Force always strikes back when it is tipped too far out of balance.   And so the Light was resurgent in the end.”

 

The Sith purses his lips as he tells of the fateful comeuppance of the First Emperor. “The Light came out of Darkness, of all places.  Ren’s grandfather killed his Sith Master, which is the aim of every Apprentice. Only Vader didn't do it for power, he did it to save his son. In the end, Sidious and Vader destroyed one another and the Light survived.” From the cold tone of his voice, Rey can appreciate how much Snoke relishes this irony.  

 

“Sidious was jealous. I failed to comprehend the depths of his jealousy.   I am a Muun and we are an objective, abstract species. We compartmentalize our feelings in a way humans do not. Human nature was not as well known to me back then, and I failed to grasp how my Apprentice had grown to feel threatened and resentful.”  Snoke’s voice is very quiet now and Rey can feel the seething emotions underlying his words and threatening to flare. “Sidious struck her first. That is the only reason I lived that night.   Because my Apprentice wasted time butchering her.”

 

Rey says nothing. She is holding her breath now as she feels in the Force Snoke reliving the moment. It’s a flash of pure rage and despair and then it is gone. The private pain channeled down deep in this man’s Dark heart to become fuel for his power. For intense emotion is the stock and trade of a Sith.

“The pain of her loss still stings deeply.” Snoke’s tone is normal again now. His speech once more the usual slow declaration. “But the love remains. When lovers promise forever, this is what it means. That even the memory is cherished once the beloved is gone.   For it is true what they say, Empress. It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” He’s looking down now, not meeting her eyes.

 

“Do you think that you will you ever marry again?” Rey asks this without thinking and then colors red at her forwardness. She’s about to apologize when she sees the old Sith smiling indulgently at her.

 

“Oh, I shall take another wife. When the time is right.” He leans forward in his chair and he’s still smiling. “You must heal me well, my dear. Make me whole and handsome again. So my sixth lady will not shrink from my touch.”

 

His light banter provokes her to tease him back. “Where are you going to find another Jedi?”

 

“Oh, it won't be a Jedi this time, but it will be a lady full of the Light. You know how much we Sith lust for the Light.” Snoke gives her a knowing look and she’s not sure if he’s talking about himself or about her husband. “But until then, you are here to give me the Light.”

 

He frowns as he reaches up his skeletal hand to brush at her cheek. Then to wipe at the perspiration beading on her forehead. “You overtax yourself,” he chides her. “I draw too much of your strength. You are in a delicate condition, my dear. We must not tire you.”

 

“But I'm getting better,” Rey protests, thinking this to be criticism of her work. Force healing is very draining, but over time she has built up stamina.

 

“And I am getting better too,” he responds. His eye holds a twinkle. And she can’t help but laugh. It lightens the mood. “That is enough for today,” he dismisses her gently.

 

Rey nods and withdraws her hands. As always, Snoke rises to walk her to the door. He is a formal man who stands when she enters a room and bows her out. And while her life as Kylo’s Empress holds a great deal of overdone pomp, this man’s courtly manners never feel forced. They just feel very . . . him. As grave and considered as everything this Sith says or does.  

 

They are at the exit to his audience chamber now, and she and Snoke replay their customary goodbye. She offers her hand, he raises it to his lips. “Now and forever,” he bids her, “You shall belong to the Sith.” Then he bows and she leaves.

 

It is four hours home to Bast Castle in hyperspace, and Rey busies herself on her datapad. It doesn't take much effort to find Hego Damask on the holonet, even almost ninety years later. In his heyday, the secret Sith had been a man of much public interest. Rey scrolls down past news articles and profile pieces and even a biography or two. She’s not interested in words, she wants pictures. And there are hundreds.

 

She slows down now, swiping through photograph after photograph. Rey sees candid news media shots of Snoke at his IGBC work. He’s testifying before various public committees, giving an address to the Senate, then disembarking from a transport with a trail of assistants in his wake. Always, surrounded by the trappings of great wealth and great power. It’s interesting and she’ll take another look, but it’s not what Rey wants to find. She keeps swiping until she gets to the party pictures. Yes, this is what she had been looking for—the social Sith. There are many, many photographs captioned as diplomatic receptions, state dinners, charity benefits and galas. Rey pauses on one that catches her eye because the camera had caught him laughing.

 

This, then, was he. The immortal, accidental patriarch of the dysfunctional Skywalker clan, the man whose line has been both Jedi and Sith. The mastermind of the grand plan to fell a Republic and raise an empire. He lived to see it all come to fruition but he never got to rule it. Not until generations later after years in exile spent biding his time waiting in the wings. For Snoke has what no one else does—the time to wait.

 

Rey looks closer, considering the younger, much more animated version of the Snoke she knows. Here was the secret Sith exposed in the open as he engineered his plots.  Here was the man before the wars, before the empires and before the heartache. If she squints, she can see the eternal Muun she visits to heal once a week. The man with a mighty scar running down his forehead as if his skull were once cleaved in two.  Rey has only seen a few Muuns in her life but even she can tell that the uninjured Snoke was handsome for his kind.   He is charismatic even in an old photograph, for she can’t help but smile just looking at his laughter.

 

At his side stands a Muun woman. Her face is sweetly pretty and open natured. She looks like the kind of woman who has no poker face and wouldn't want one. Wouldn't even know what to do with one. Her long dress is severe and elegant but her body beneath is lush and soft.  It's a memorable contradiction, for simultaneously Shan Damask looks approachable and sophisticated. Not the least bit aloof. Rey can see how this woman might have been the perfect First Lady--someone the masses might admire from afar but an individual might relate to.  A woman who could walk among viceroys and chancellors, but still have the common touch.

 

And she was a Sith's lady, like herself. Beloved of a man she died saving. Studying her Rey sees now that Shan Damask was feminine in a way that even eclipses the photographs she has memorized of Darth Vader’s Naboo queen. Snoke’s wife looks almost vulnerable as she stands with his arm encircled about her waist.  And the easy confidence of their public intimacy surprises Rey. For she and Kylo don’t so much as hold hands together in public.

 

Rey looks at the date of the photograph and mentally does the math. Yes, by this time Snoke's stolen bride had already lost her Force. And here she was, the disgraced Jedi looking gorgeous and smiling on the arm of the richest, most powerful man in the galaxy. The Sith might have given her Snoke's promised justice, but Rey thinks being happy was this woman's best revenge.

 

Shan Damask had been a fully trained Jedi Knight and a woman long grown when she had met her Sith. Not an orphan teenager newly awakened in the Force and accidentally caught up in a war. In her worst predicament, Shan Damask had slept in the relative comfort of an Ivy League library and not a downed Imperial walker. And while Snoke’s wife had scraped by for a time in the dubious Coruscant Underworld, she had never had to forage for food and water. She had never starved.   Still Lady Plagueis had her share of troubles, Rey thinks. And they had culminated in her Sith finding her one day collapsed on his doorstep, begging for his help. Help, it turned out, that he could not provide.

 

Maybe, Rey muses as she absently strokes her itchy belly, she and Shan Damask are not as different as Snoke believes. For Lady Plagueis had been a survivor in her own way. Rey is certain of that fact.

 

And perhaps that’s what it means to be a Sith’s lady—that if you are lucky, you will endure both the Sith and their enemies and in the end you will find a way to make peace with it all.   That’s what Shan Damask did all those years ago and that’s what Rey too has managed. Poor Lady Vader, Rey thinks, for she never got the chance even to try.  

 

And that spurs Rey’s curiosity. She starts searching the holonet for the Cresta Cole woman. She spells the name as many ways as she can think of. But Rey can find no record of her or any other woman linked to Senator Palpatine or the First Emperor.  There is no record of her businesses either.   Knowing the Sith like she does, Rey thinks this is no accident. Someone went to great lengths to make that woman anonymous.

 

The shuttle has landed back at Bast Castle now and Rey struggles to her feet. At seven months pregnant with twins, getting up and down takes an effort. As she stiffly plods her way down the ramp, Rey’s eyes find Old Milo waiting to greet her.

 

“Welcome home, Empress.” His bow is formal but his smile is friendly and genuine.

 

Rey’s eyes flit over her friend and mentor, the dignified castlekeeper trusted first by Vader and then by Kylo Ren. And before that, she now knows, by Darth Plagueis himself. Long has Milo served the Sith.  Here is a man who knows it all and who Rey trusts tell her the truth.  For there is nothing Milo loves so much as telling tales of the glory days of the Empire.

 

“Thank you, Milo.” She gladly accepts the old man’s offered arm. Her balance is not what it once was. Impulsively, she leans in to him to ask, “Will you tell me about Cresta Cole.”

 

“Cresta Cole,” he repeats slowly. The old retainer’s eyes widen and he stops to look at her anew. “Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. A long time.” The keeper looks thoughtful for a moment but he resumes walking. “My old master has been telling stories of the past, I see.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Cresta Cole.” He repeats the name again and now Rey’s curiosity is running rampant as Milo stalls.

 

“What was she like?”

 

He pauses a long time before answering. “My old master did not approve of Darth Sidious’ choice of companion,” the old man admits, and this Rey already knows. “Cresta Cole was what some might call a piece of work,” Milo begins, his eyes twinkling. “She was . . . complicated. Now come inside, my dear. Let’s get you off your feet.”


	28. Story Notes

Notes for The Fifth Wife

 

(Note: some spoilers for Fulcrum in these notes—be warned)

 

 

So this is my second “I married a Sith” story and I wanted it to feel very different from _Fulcrum_ , the story that this fic evolved out of. I wanted the love story to progress in a different manner and the main characters Snoke and Shan to be very different from my Kylo and Rey.  

 

Snoke is a much more evolved Sith than Kylo of _Fulcrum_. Snoke is not a man who would ever have a temper tantrum and destroy an instrument panel with his lightsaber. He is a Sith Master and much more mature both in the Dark Side and as a person. He’s already lived several lifetimes and been married multiple times, so he has life experience and life lessons in spades. And he has no Sith master to impress and nothing left to prove to anyone other than himself. Snoke is the boss and he makes his own rules and can decide when to bend them.

 

Most importantly, Snoke has no Big Angst he’s dealing with. My Snoke is a bit lonely for intimacy—and perhaps that is what has led him into all his prior marriages. But he is by no means some crippled social loner who’s miserable in his isolation. Snoke is a social guy and he wants company at home as well as out in the world.

 

When we see him later in Ep. 7 and in my epilogue, I think that Snoke has moved past all that to a measure of isolation as Supreme Leader that would have been miserable for his former self. But well, life changes you along the way, and between _The Fifth Wife_ and _Fulcrum_ , life has changed Snoke.

 

What does all this mean for him as a character? I think Snoke is less apt to be casually violent and more apt to be cold and calculating. He first thinks and talks his way around a problem before he pulls out his saber. Snoke is also more certain of himself and that permits him to be more forgiving and tolerant than a younger Sith might be. In the end, Snoke is far less of an angry brute than my Kylo, but no less evil.

 

And I think that fits with this pre-prequel time period when the galaxy is not at war and you can’t simply call in an air strike on someone who pissed you off.   These Sith have real limitations because they live in stealth. I was really drawn to the idea of a pre-prequel time when the Sith operate in our daily lives, hidden but out in the open at the same time. There’s something very subversive about the idea that evil walks among us in disguise. For you might casually bump into Hego Damask at a party or sit a few tables away from him at a restaurant and never be the wiser. Here is a man very much in the world, who has a whole life and a day job in the real world. But really, it’s all to support his true calling as a Sith.

 

That’s a different vantage point from the classic and sequel trilogies where the Emperor, Vader, Kylo Ren and Snoke are mostly shown in tightly controlled military settings where these guys are clearly the bad guy bosses. And while we do see Sidious in his political environment in the prequel trilogy, even that has a certain formality and implicit authority to it (maybe with the exception of the opera scene—my fav!).

 

In this timeframe, I have this concept that the Sith are some extinct bogeyman of old that no one would ever take seriously.  It would be like warning your friend who’s going on a Scandinavian vacation to watch out for Vikings. Yeah, Vikings were real and they were dangerous but the very idea that you are going to get captured by a Viking in 2016 is ridiculous and no one would ever take your warning seriously. And that’s the type of context in which Shan meets Snoke. Is she trusting and naïve—yes. But, would it ever be reasonable to suspect that Snoke is truly a Sith lord? No.

 

After spending so much time with troubled Rey in _Fulcrum_ , I wanted to write a very different heroine for _The Fifth Wife_. I had a few things in mind when I wrote Shan. First, I wanted her to be an ordinary Jedi. Shan is not some invincible warrior girl hero. She’s not the Jedi the press would follow and who might lead an army later on in the Clone Wars. She’s sort of a behind-the-scenes, worker bee helper Jedi. She’s smart and talented, but not in action hero type ways. And, in some respects, her talents are overlooked and underappreciated. She’s the type who will never be the boss, but very quickly becomes the boss’ indispensable right-hand man. She’s completely trustworthy and dependable and will never complain.

 

I wanted Shan to be part of a Jedi culture that is incredibly insular. From a tender age Shan has been sheltered in the bubble of Jedi life and Jedi values. The Jedi are all she has ever known and she has never thought to question them. Even her work is somewhat removed from everyday life, for she spends her days in a temple library as a researcher. Perhaps Jedi who do field work and interact with the public become worldly and wise from their experiences (Anakin and Obi-Wan seem so), but not Shan. Because of her bookish small world of high ideals and hard work, Shan is very trusting and friendly and completely virtuous.

 

In many ways, Shan’s character is the opposite of Rey.   Shan is educated and book smart, but not street smart like our barely literate girl from Jakku. Where Rey is lonely and isolated from her hard scrabble upbringing, Shan grew up surrounded by Jedi. And while she has never lived in luxury, Shan has always lived in comfort and security and has never known want of any kind. What does this mean for these two women? Well, Rey is a self-reliant survivor, whereas Shan is hapless in some ways. Rey is a fighter by nature, but Shan has never fought anyone or for anything in her life--she's never had to.  So Shan is generally shy of conflict—a person more apt to go along and not make a fuss.

 

I suppose this makes Shan a more traditional female character in need to saving. Maybe she’s less heroic (although she definitely takes risks). But I also think it makes her more relatable, more real.

 

I like to think that Shan reflects her times—as a Jedi and as a person. She’s the unsuspecting prey for Snoke not unlike the helplessly inept and poised for ruin late Old Republic that Snoke plots to control.   I even wanted Shan to look soft and pliable—she has this amazing curvy thick goddess body that Snoke is hot for. She’s so overtly feminine, maybe even indulgent looking with all her jiggle. Not the lean, disciplined muscle that might come from times of hardship and war.

 

This story, like _Fulcrum_ , makes some observations about social class in the SW universe. As a Jedi, Shan is educated, well-spoken and well poised for the world she enters as Snoke's wife.   She is very unlike Rey, who slowly under the tutelage of Milo, comes into her role as Empress. We do see some of the underlying class conflicts in this fic in the relationship of Sidious and Cresta. For beneath the glamour of the Republic there are Haves and Have Nots and also an ugly underworld of crime and vice. I live in a world now that is very different from the way I grew up and both Shan and Rey experience this transition to a new world of expectations thanks to their Sith (Rey more so than Shan).

 

What does it mean to be a Sith's lady? It's a mix of good and bad, as Rey and Shan's stories attest.   Once you enter the world of these men, you are essentially trapped for life, both by these men themselves and by the weight of their ambitions and challenges. And if you try to escape, there are consequences.   In _Fulcrum_ , Kylo essentially beats the shit out of Rey when he finds her (Kylo being an angry angsty juvenile Sith). Shan’s consequences are a bit different here because they come from the Jedi. And unlike Rey’s, Shan’s repercussions are permanent.

 

_There are no happy endings on the Dark Side, it always ends in tragedy_. Leia Organa warns Rey about this in _Fulcrum_ , and that’s good advice for Shan too.   You cannot love or be loved by a Sith without suffering for it. And that suffering can come from them and from their enemies. That’s not to say that you can’t find happiness in the end, but it’s never the traditional happily ever after we all wish for.

 

And it works similarly for the Sith themselves in my little Alternative Universe. For though this fic ends with a reunion, we know that Snoke won’t get everything he wants. Yes, Snoke has immortality and he ultimately rules the galaxy in _Fulcrum_ , but not with his lady by his side. Darth Plagueis will indeed hold all the power and hold it forever, but he holds it alone without Shan. And when we see him, the handsome, social man about town from the Late Republic is a disfigured monster in a cowl.

 

Similarly, Kylo—who so desperately wants to be the successful and happy Skywalker Sith--becomes the Second Emperor, earns Rey’s love and starts his next generation of Skywalker Sith. But he sacrifices spectacularly along the way.  These men live big lives with huge ambitions and there are costs that come with it.

 

Part of the reason to write this fic was to flesh out the context of why Snoke resurrects Rey for Kylo in _Fulcrum_.   Some readers found it hard to believe that Snoke would ever permit the exchange that occurs at the end of that fic. In my mind, because of Shan Snoke understands what Kylo has lost. He feels Kylo’s pain, in other words. He might not agree with Kylo’s decision, but he understands it.

 

_The Fifth Wife_ was thrown together impromptu. I was on vacation with just my husband and he ended up on the conference calls most of the time next to me in the beach cabana. I got bored! It was just after the ending of _Fulcrum_ was published and everyday my inbox had five more PMs filled with outraged readers and a few more angry comments on the AO3 version of the story. I kept mulling over whether to delete the story online because it had engendered such hard feelings. But all that thinking about _Fulcrum_ convinced me to keep that story online and actually ended up with me writing this fic on my phone.

 

I wanted _The Fifth Wife_ to feel easier than _Fulcrum_. Lighter in tone (less angst and no war!) and lighter in substance. Also, much shorter and less crafted. Each chapter of _Fulcrum_ was painstakingly poured over and edited for hours. But this fic was typed on my phone at the beach over vacation and then later poolside watching my kids during long summer days. I would bang out bits of ideas on my phone, arrange them into a chapter on my laptop during naptime and then edit and post later that day. This fic evolved as it went, and it suffered a bit here and there from that haphazard writing style. Honestly, at the beginning it was barely thought out, which was the opposite of the backwards engineered _Fulcrum_ plotline.

 

Originally this story was supposed to end in five chapters with Snoke and Shan’s marriage in the temple. The ending went like this: “Surprise! I’m a Sith Lord!” But I kept it going. And oh dear--I hadn't figured on any plot.   I had this idea that Shan sees the future and it's all true. But it's not her and Snoke's truth, it’s Anakin and Padme's truth. (Another Sith and his lady, whose story looms large over Rey and Kylo in _Fulcrum_ )  But neither Shan nor Snoke realize it’s not about them.  And so Shan gets dragged down into the Skywalker mess trying to avoid someone else's destiny. All that she sees will ultimately come true, just not for her and for her son. Snoke gets his Sith son, but it’s Anakin, his child created in the Force, and not his biological child.

 

If you have read _Fulcrum_ , you know how Shan and Snoke’s story ends. (See _Fulcrum_ Chapters 7, 28, and 35 for Snoke talking to Kylo Ren about Shan). But my story ends years earlier. I wanted this fic to end on a happy-ish reunion between the lovers, and not to focus on their ultimate fate. After a lot of thought, that seemed to be the best, most satisfying resolution of our lovers.

 

Milo, the manservant to the Sith who serves Snoke, then Vader and ultimately Kylo, appears in this fic too. My head canon has Milo’s life being extended by Snoke as a reward to his favorite helper. Once Sidious thinks he has killed Plagueis, in my mind Milo goes on to serve Sidious (although you know he’s secretly in touch with Plagueis the whole time and spying for him) and later Sidious gives him to Vader (which is why he ends up at Bast Castle during the Empire days). Once Sidious and Vader are gone, Milo is back with his original master until Snoke sends him to Kylo. So Milo has seen it all and knows it all.

 

As with the character of Milo, I wanted to preserve continuity in ideas about the Force, the Jedi, the Sith and the events that show up in both _Fulcrum_ and _The Fifth Wife_.  I only broke once from this concept—In _Fulcrum_ , Snoke tells Kylo that he kept his wife a secret from all but Sidious. That was way too limiting for this fic and it didn’t fit with my concept of the Sith being out in the open in disguise. And, frankly, I didn’t want to write again about another Sith wife locked away like Rey is in _Fulcrum_.

 

This fic is told entirely from Shan’s point of view. That’s a legacy of the original idea that this fic would end with a big reveal in the temple. The reader knows who Snoke is, but Shan doesn’t, and that’s the big drama of the narrative for those first few chapters. But once I kept going, I felt pretty limited by the single point of view but there wasn’t a convenient way to change it up once the story got going. _Fulcrum_ shifts points of view between Kylo and Rey and I think that makes for a deeper, more gradual emotional pull to the story. And, in the end, a stronger one.   This would have been a better fic if it had both points of view in my opinion.

 

I had always envisioned that Snoke would be Anakin’s father. I had toyed with this reveal at the conclusion of _Fulcrum_ but decided otherwise.   But that idea stuck with me and it is part of this story plot. You know me, I’m can’t get enough of the dysfunctional Skywalkers. It was just too tempting to make Snoke the patriarch of the clan.

 

This story lacks the long third person descriptive passages that appears in scenes throughout _Fulcrum_.   Oh, I had so much fun writing those! They were always chock full of elegiac SW melodrama. I tried to put some of that feeling into Shan’s Force visions of the future. But mostly, this story is dialogue.    

 

Thanks for reading!

 


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